House of Cards
by animeotaku990
Summary: A new season at the worldwide Battle Frontier begins, and a trainer new to the area finds himself quickly embroiled in a political conflict of one kind and facing personal challenges of another sort entirely. Rated T for mild language and romantic theme.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

House of Cards

Chapter One: Arrival

It was a clear spring night, with the moon very close to being full. It lent its light to the ferry, cutting its way over relatively calm seas. Mantine glided alongside the boat, fins glinting in the pale moonlight. Some trainers on the ferry watched them with fascination, admiring the wild pokemons' grace.

One trainer in particular was not among them. He was busy reading the piece of paper in his hands for the fiftieth time.

_Mr. Grant, Congratulations! You have been chosen as part of a select group of trainers from all over the world to join us at the Battle Frontier…_

The letter went on a bit after that, but it was just more congratulations, information about events, and so forth. None of that mattered- the fact that he'd been accepted was all he needed to read, over and over and over.

"So you're a first-year, right?"

He looked up and into the freckled face of another trainer. His auburn hair was covered by a white ball cap, set backwards so the brim hovered over the nape of his neck. He wore a red shirt, blue jeans (much-worn), a pair of tan work boots (equally worn), and an intent, studying look.

"Yeah, first year, like you said," the first trainer said, carefully folding and re-stowing the message in his shirt pocket.

The other flopped backwards into a chair, facing the first. "Figured as much. You have that look."

"What look?"

The second grinned broadly. "The look of a newbie trainer leaving home for the first time! The look of a kid who just got his first pokemon from the local professor- that look!"

It had been fully seven years since the first trainer had left his hometown in the Hoenn region, and in his opinion, he looked nothing like a novice. His jeans were worn out, his shirt had more than a few stains on it, and he could certainly do with a new pair of shoes. The black wool cap that covered his jet black hair had seen its day- a large hole on the right side was a painful reminder of what can happen when Mothims attack. his frame, lean from years of travel and hard living, could be considered malnourished by most people's standards.

The first trainer frowned. "I'm not a new-" "Yeah, I know you're not, you just have the look of one. Not physically, just as if you're off to someplace new. To be honest, no matter how good you think you are, once we get to the Battle Frontier, you will in point of fact be a newbie."

"I see. So…are you a newbie?"

"Me? Kinda. Name's Toru. This'll be my third year. And you are?"

"Corey, and like you said, this will be my first year at the Frontier. Speaking of which, I think that's it on the horizon."

Sure enough, they could see the glow of the Frontier's port town just over the waterline. Brilliant reds and blues flashed against the off-white of the street lamps, and the other ferries carrying even more trainers dotted the dark sea. Both trainers ran to the bow of the ship to get a better look, and crowd built up behind them almost immediately. Everyone wanted a better look, neophyte and seasoned trainer alike.

"No matter how many times I see it, it's always a rush," said Toru. He grinned at Corey. "You stick with me, pal, and we'll do great things together!"

An hour later they landed in Harbor Town. From the pier, a wide main street stretched straight inland, with smaller, narrower side streets jutting off to either side.

"Not very imaginative with the name, were they?" Corey asked over the din of the crowd. Everywhere they went, party horns blared, bells rang, and party poppers burst, sending their confetti showering down on the throng from second story balconies. Street vendors hawked their wares, from your garden-variety trainer supplies to deep-fried carnival-style foods.

"Nah, buth ish not like they hadda be," Toru replied despite a mouthful of fried dough. He swallowed with a satisfied grin. "Like I said, they don't need to be clever with the names. It's a town, and it has a port. So they call it Port Town. We're not here for cleverly-named towns."

"What are we here for, exactly?" Corey asked, ducking under a swooping Pidgeotto with streamers trailing from its talons. It did a barrel roll, drawing delighted applause from the crowd.

"That," Toru shouted, gesturing with his dough hand and clutching Corey's shoulder with the other, "is what we're here for. The Arena!"

Corey looked down the main road and saw exactly what Toru was pointing at- in fact, it was impossible not to. An enormous structure towered above the tree line, fireworks painting the alabaster of the Arena with a spectrum of explosive color.

"But that can wait! Tonight, we're going to party!" Toru shouted, taking another bite of the dough.

"Where is it?"

Toru laughed. "All around you, man! Today's a major holiday- Arrival Day! All the businesses offer insane deals, today and for every night this week."

"Why this week?"

Toru's smile faded slightly. "You ask a lot of obvious questions, you know that? Today's Arrival Day, the day _we_ get here. All these businesses cater to the needs of trainers, and specifically to trainers- inns, restaurants, supply shops, tourist traps, the works! Today marks the opening of Frontier Season, so all the businesses try to outdo each other with incredible prices and promos in order to attract a lot of business. That way, they avoid advertisement costs by generating word-of-mouth advertising among trainers."

Corey thought about that. It made sense- this was a town founded around an arena, so if there were no Trainers, there was no business. Today was their chance to make their mark. A bad showing tonight likely meant a bad season and a risk of bankruptcy.

"Sounds like a plan," Corey said, smiling broadly. "I was wondering what I was supposed to do with this!" He produced a roll of large-denomination bills from his pants pocket.

Toru gawked, and then burst out laughing. "That's your winnings from battles, right?" He produced a similarly-sized wad of his own. His laughter was infectious, Corey decided, as he joined in and followed the throng down the main boulevard.

Up on a dark, second-storey balcony, four people sat, observing the general goings-on.

"So it begins," one said, sipping from a flask. "Seems like it gets to be bigger every year."

"Statistically speaking, it's probably the same size. They invite a hundred new trainers every year, and the dropout rate is probably very close to that as well. Some trainers quit, retire…"

"…or like us, just stick around forever and never battle," the first one finished. "I'm starting to get tired of this waiting crap, when can we start battling again?"

"Patience, brother dearest. You know what we agreed- We won't return until we can unanimously agree to do so. Thus far you're the only one who wants to."

A long sigh. "Yeah I know, sis, but this seems like a waste of time. I haven't battled in so long I'm flat broke!"

"Well that's your own fault," the second one said. "We all put the money to good use- investments, businesses, and the like. You wasted yours- too long living too well on too little."

The one with the flask snorted disdainfully. "More like too long, period. It's been three years since any of us have actually battled another trainer. Cash regardless, that's too long to be out of the game. We need to go back."

"Yes, well, be that as it may, at least one of us still isn't ready to go back. Isn't that right?" The woman turned to the fourth person, who was staring out at the crowd. He had a small digital camera and was snapping pictures. The woman stood and crossed over to him, leaving her drink in its tall crystal glass on the table. "See someone interesting?"

"About fifty interesting someones," he grunted.

"That's all?" The woman sounded slightly disappointed.

"Yeah. We'll see who makes it through the prelims and doesn't scrub out by the end of the week. Until then, I think it's best we make our own separate ways out of here." As he spoke, someone started howling laughing outside, as if someone had just told a great joke. The one with the camera turned and snapped one last shot. "There, now, fifty-two. And like I said, it's best we don't get together like this for a bit."

The other three nodded. They exited the door, one by one. The one with the flask turned back to look for the fourth with the camera, but he was already gone. Flask just smiled and shook his head. "Helluva trick," he said, and closed the door.

End Chapter One


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

House of Cards

Chapter Two: Hostile Hotel

It had been an eventful night. Corey and Toru had browsed most of Port Town's assorted shops and stalls, seeing much and buying little- although Toru was on his third fried dough. They'd seen a Machamp juggling increasing numbers of Voltorb, a shop that sold nothing but seals to put on pokeballs, and a stand that sold fried Octillery on a stick. Toru dared Corey to try some. He hadn't.

"Hey, we should start thinking about where we'll be sleeping," Toru said at length. "It's getting late and the crowds are starting to thin out a bit. They're all probably heading towards the inns."

"Inns?" Corey glanced at the bedroll hanging from the bottom of his rucksack. He'd spent most of his journeys roughing it on the ground, under the stars. Sleeping in a proper bed under a roof struck him as an alien concept.

"Yeah, inns. Like I said, this whole town thrives on trainers and tourists, and…hey now! I know where we are. There's a nice inn right around the corner. I've stayed there a few seasons, so the manager might cut me a nice rate. It's this way!" Toru took three running steps forward and nearly collapsed. The fried dough had, at last, taken its toll.

"Right…better walk, then."

The Hospitable Hippowdon stood before them, six stories tall. The first floor was the restaurant, where guest and passerby alike could get a hot meal at a good price and rent a room on the next four floors. The top floor was a sitting area, more private than the restaurant. Tea and other drinks were served here at no cost to the clientele. The owner was a large man, as tall as he was broad, and with a large belly that shook like a bowl of Oran berry gelatin when he laughed, which was often. Despite his rotund middle, Phillipo- for that was the owner's name- had arms that made him look like he could wrestle and Ursaring to the ground and a head so smooth it could put any Voltorb to shame. As soon as Corey and Toru entered, the former supporting the latter, he let out a burst of laughter.

"Toru m'boy! Welcome back. You want a meal, a room, or both?" Phillipo called from behind the counter.

"Hey Phil! Meal first, room second!" Where he puts it all, I have no idea, Corey thought. "This is my pal, Corey. He's a first year and I promised I'd show him a good time. I couldn't think of a better place to come than here!"

"Alright. Sit wherever kiddo, I'll be out in a sec!" Phil called as he disappeared into the kitchen. Most of the large tables were full, but there was a small table near the back of the room that comfortably seated them both. Phil returned a few minutes later with a tray of drinks. He passed them out at each table as he made his way to the back, moving with a grace that didn't seem possible for a man so big. As he handed out the drinks, Phil greeted each patron and recited their drinks as if he knew each and every one of them personally. His tray empty, Phil stowed it under his arm and pulled out a pad of paper and pen, finally reaching their small table.

"What can I get ya?"

Before either had a chance to order, the ground floor's double doors burst open and a hush fell over the restaurant. His smile suddenly gone, Phil turned to get a look at the new patrons.

There were three of them. They all wore red collared shirts with white vests, pants and shoes. On each of their vests' left breasts, there was a red diamond. One had a white armband on with a large red two on it. He was tall and slight without being skinny, and his close-cropped blonde hair ended in bright orange tips in the front. He surveyed the room like a Spearow looking over a group of Caterpie caught entirely unawares, and selected the largest one first.

"Give me your best table," he demanded, neither acknowledging Phil's presence nor looking at him but demanding a table nonetheless.

Phil, far from his robust self- who, Corey knew, would sooner bodily pitch punks like this out on the street than waste his time even bringing them water- cold only stammer in the affirmative and comply. He cleaned off a large table in the middle of the room and beckoned them over. He pulled out the chair for their leader, the one with the armband, himself. All eyes were immediately on the goings-on in the middle of the room.

"What can I get you fine young gentlemen?" Phil asked nervously.

Again, neither looking at nor acknowledging Phil, their leader said, "Three sparkling chesto berry drinks, and don't let it run dry."

Phil tried to stammer something, but was interrupted by the leader. "What? Oh, of course, you haven't got any, have you? No, certainly not in a dump like this." Corey hated the way he put emphasis on the word 'dump.'

"What I mean to…uh…say, sirs, is that, um…we've temporarily run out of that particular beverage. I have one last bottle of sparkling grepa berry cider in the back, if it would satisfy you."

At last the man with the armband looked at Phil, but it was a gaze of pure contempt. He stood and flipped the table over, sending good plates and glasses crashing to the floor. "Grepa? You simple oaf, that's a commoner's drink! Do you know who I am?"

"I don't care much who you are, but you really need to leave."

Stunned, Phil looked for the source of the outburst. He saw that Corey was on his feet, with a gaze that could put an Arbok's to shame pointed directly at the man with the armband.

"Oh. Well now," the man with the armband said, now on his feet as well, "seems to me this really is a dump. All kinds of garbage cropping up in here. What's your issue?"

"Phil's a nice guy," Corey said, "and you're being a jerk. He doesn't have your drink, so order something else or leave."

"Kid, there's no need for you to make a scene like this. Just sit down and let me handle this," Phil said evenly. There was no small amount of panic in his wide eyes.

Corey felt a slight tug on his sleeve. He looked down and saw Corey with a pleading look in his eye, nervously signaling him to sit. "Let it go man," he said plaintively.

The man with the armband smirked. "No, no, the kid wants to make a scene, let him. We can take this outside." The man's underlings got up and walked to the double doors at the front of the Happy Hippowdon and opened them for their leader. "I'll be waiting. Don't make me come back in to get you," he called over his shoulder.

"Do you have any idea who you just mouthed off to?" Toru asked, stunned beyond all rational thought.

"No, and I'd rather you told me after I beat him," Corey replied. He made his way across the room, past a stupefied Phil, and outside. One by one, the inn's patrons got up and followed, not wanting to miss the spectacle that was about to unfold.

Everyone, that is, except an exceptionally hairy man sitting at the table next to Corey and Toru.

A man with a flask.

Taking a swig, he got up and ascended the staircase. This sort of thing called for a box seat, he decided. The roof would do nicely.

Outside, the man with the armband stood at one end of the street, flanked by his lackeys. He cracked a grin as Corey stepped into the street.

"Introductions are in order," he called. "What's your name?"

"Corey Grant, from the Hoenn region. This is my first year at the Frontier."

The man with the armband, along with several onlookers, balked. "This is your first year?" He laughed incredulously. "You're kidding! First night on the town, and I get sassed by a newbie!" His underlings joined in the laughter.

"You still haven't told me your name," Corey said impatiently.

The man with the armband managed to calm down and answer. "I could tell you, but it would mean nothing to you, rookie. Alright, let's get started."

"Terms."

"Excuse me?"

"Terms. You challenged me, so I get to name the terms of victory."

Armband shrugged. "Fine, name the terms."

"One-on-one, a single pokemon each," Corey said, "and if I win, you pay Phil what it's going to cost to clean up the mess you made, plus the bill for everyone inside, and you never come back here again."

"And if I win?"

"If you win, I'll buy you ten bottles of that drink you wanted." There was an audible gasp. Chesto was an uncommon berry, and drinks made from it were favored among the rich to improve their looks and the looks of their pokemon. It wasn't something you just went out and bought on a whim, and certainly not on a trainer's income.

"Fine," Armband said, "let's get started. Go," he said, pulling a pokeball from his pocket, "Vaporeon!" He tossed the ball into the air. It burst open, and in its place was a Vaporeon, in all its marine glory, finned tail thrashing behind it. It growled menacingly.

Corey pulled a ball from his belt. "Let's go Shiftry!" There was a burst of light, and suddenly a Shiftry stood in the middle of the street. It brandished its leaf-fan hands and assumed a battle pose, appearing as fierce as possible.

Vaporeon and its trainer appeared unmoved. "Vaporeon, let's wrap this up quickly. Hit it with Aurora Beam!"

"Ee-yoooon!" Vaproeon cried, firing a beam of prismatic light from its mouth.

"Dodge it, Shiftry, then follow up with Bullet Seed!"

"Shiff!" In a flash, Shiftry vanished. The light ray struck the pavement harmlessly. Suddenly it was above Vaporeon, spitting a salvo of shining seeds from its mouth. Instinctively, Vaporeon dodged the projectiles, and then fired another blast in response. Caught in the air, Shiftry took the attack in the face, crying out in pain as it fell to the ground.

Or it would have, if the beam hadn't shot directly through it.

"Vaporeon, it's using Double Team! Watch out!" The warning was a moment too late- Shiftry was already behind Vaporeon and pummeling it with another barrage of seeds at close range. A great deal of them struck Vaporeon, and it went tumbling across the ground. "Vaporeon, get up! Hit it with an Ice Beam!" Vaporeon recovered, and then fired another beam from its mouth. This time, it was an arcing trail of blue lightning that shot towards Shiftry.

"Shiftry, dodge again and use Fury Cutter!" Once again, Shiftry vanished before the beam struck and appeared behind Vaporeon. It struck with its leaf blades five times before Vaporeon managed to get out of range of the attack. "Bullet Seed again!" For the third time, Shiftry fired a fusillade of seeds from its mouth. Vaporeon, too weak now to dodge, took the brunt of the attack and collapsed, very much defeated.

The man with the armband ground his teeth. "You- you- you- you-"

"I won," Corey said, matter-of-factly. "Now hand over the money and beat it."

"Bastard!" The man with the armband shouted. "Common chaff! I'll show you!" He reached for his belt and the five pokeballs that rested there.

"That is enough, Guillaume."

Everyone turned to find a man, dressed the same as the man apparently named Guillaume and his subordinates. He also had an arm band, only his bore a large red letter 'J' instead of a number. He was tall and slim, like his fellows, but his hair was dark where theirs was blonde, and he wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. His hands were covered in small white gloves.

"You lost. I watched it happen. Own up to your end of the arrangement, and do not bring further shame upon yourself." Guillaume muttered something. "What was that?"

"I said, I don't have any money on me."

The newcomer sniffed impatiently. "Very well. Good sir," he said, turning and addressing Phillipo, who was still struck dumb, "I apologize for my comrade's behavior. I believe this should more than cover the damages incurred this evening," he said, handing a check with a sizeable sum written on it over to Phil, "and I do hope to visit your…charming… establishment again someday, under more pleasant circumstances. As for you," he said, turning to Corey, "you were most impressive. You said this is your first year?"

"First day, to be honest," Corey said sheepishly.

"Oh my! Well aren't we talented. I want you to have this," he said, taking a small plastic card from his inner vest pocket. It had a red diamond on it, just like the one on his vest. "That will gain you admittance to the House of Diamonds. Be there in three days' time, at ten in the morning. Not a second later! Come along now Guillaume," he said, turning and walking away.

"Wait," Corey called after the gentleman. He turned, wearing a pleasant smile that didn't seem altogether genuine. "I didn't catch your name."

"I am Toulouse Levesque, Jack of the House of Diamonds, and I must be going now." With that, he turned down a side street and back towards the main road, the other three in tow.

Once they were gone, Corey turned back to the crowd that had gathered behind him. "Well," he said, "that was interesting."

Or he would have, if the breath hadn't been taken right out of him by Phillipo's bearhug.

The four members of the House of Diamonds walked silently down the side street.

Guillaume unwisely broke the silence. "Sir, I-" The staccato of the slap resounded through the tight alley.

"You disgraced yourself, Guillaume, and you have cost the House a great deal of money. You will be censured harshly upon our return, make no mistake!"

Guillaume rubbed his sore cheek. Even though he was quite sure he could take him, he dared not strike the Jack- regardless of the outcome of the fight, it would end badly for him. "I am sorry, milord. I will not fail you so a second time."

"See that you don't, or that young man may very well become your replacement as Deuce."

Behind the Jack's back, Guillaume scowled ferociously.

Up on the rooftop of the Happy Hippowdon, the man with the flask grinned. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed one of his friends.

"You there? Yeah it's me. One of the trainers you had eye on just beat the tar out of the Deuce of Diamonds. The Jack showed up and invited him to their estate." A pause. "Yeah, I'll keep an eye on them, as long as I'm in town. This could get interesting, and it could get there quick. I'll keep you posted."

Clicking the phone shut, the man with the flask unscrewed the top again and took another sip. Yes, this would indeed become interesting.

End Chapter Two


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

A/N: I'm working on inserting chapter dividers that stick. Sorry if it seems jumpy thus far.

House of Cards

Chapter Three: History

"So who were those guys anyway?"

Corey, Phil, and Toru sat at a small table sharing around the last of a particularly good bottle of grepa berry cider. It wasn't fermented, but the carbonation of the drink combined with the tartness of the parent fruit made for a surprisingly good beverage nonetheless. The rest of the dining room was a mess; plates left on tables, glasses half-full of various drinks, and so forth. After the battle outside, Phil had organized an impromptu party, bursting open his larders. A raucous celebration had ensued and carried on for some hours until the rest of the Hospitable Hippowdon's customers had retired for the night, one by one, each offering some form of congratulations to Corey on their way upstairs.

Toru cleared his throat. "Those guys," he said, "were members of the Royal House of Diamonds, one of four noble houses that prettymuch govern the Battle Frontier."

"Govern? You mean, they have some kind of political power?"

"Yes and no," Phil said, pausing to burp into his fist politely. "See, this particular island- on which the Frontier is located- doesn't fall under the jurisdiction of any of the five regions. It's a land unto itself, and thus, the Houses are the ruling faction by dint of battle and bank- which is to say, they're good at drawing wealth into the Frontier and keeping, ah, _unscrupulous _factions out."

"The other three Houses are the Royal House of Clubs, the Royal House of Hearts, and the Royal House of Spades," Toru continued. "Each of the houses has its own elite within the elite- the best of the best trainers in the Frontier. They're called the Knights. You met two of the House of Diamonds' Knights tonight, the Knight of Two and the Knight of Jack, who are the strongest and weakest of the Knights in their House, respectively. After that, there's the Queen and the King, the two most powerful Trainers in a House."

Phil produced a pack of cards from his pocket and started organizing them on the table. "Each year, the Houses issue these for general purchase and reference. They also make dandy collectors' items," he said with a foolish grin. Each of the cards had a different face on it where there usually existed a set number of diamonds, clubs, and so on. Phil carefully arranged forty-eight of them on the table for Corey's benefit, by rank and House.

"I get it," Corey said, immediately recognizing two of the faces, "but who were the other two guys with them? They didn't have armbands, so they must not have been Knights, right?"

"Nope. Those two were Pages," Phil said after an extensive draught of the cider. "They're in the running to be Knights. Your invitation gives you a shot at becoming a Page. If you become one, you'll have to prove yourself worthy of Knighthood over a period of time."

"How long does it take to become a Knight?"

Toru shrugged. "You could become a Knight the next day. Then again, you could stay a Page forever. I've had friends who entered a House and stayed Pages ever since. No one I know personally ever became a Knight."

"And even getting the invitation is rare," Phil continued. "You were lucky you were where you where, when you were there, and you had the skills to beat that punk." He chuckled. "I still can't thank you enough for that."

Corey waved him off dismissively. "It's not a problem. Anyone could have done it." But why didn't they, he thought.

"But no one does," Toru said, almost reading his mind, "because of what can happen if you lose. When I said the Houses govern the Frontier, I meant it- they can shut down a business, deport trainers, do prettymuch whatever they want out here, as long as they have some kind of justification for it."

"Wasn't always like that," Phil growled. He placed the last four cards on the table- the aces. They were conspicuously devoid of any faces, just oversized icons of whatever suit they belonged to.

"Oh, there you go again with the Aces, Phil. Give it a rest, they're not coming back," Toru said, clearly annoyed.

Phil glowered. "Kid's got a right to know the history," he said, turning to Corey. "Until about four years ago, the Aces were the top trainers in the Houses, more powerful than even the Kings. The four of them had been to every region, collected every gym badge, and even beat the Elite Fours. Most trainers couldn't hold a candle to them."

"So what happened? Why are the cards blank?"

"They disappeared one day four years ago," Toru said. "About a year after that, there was what you might call a radical regime change in the Houses- new Kings and Queens overthrew the old ones. Well, except for the Queen of Hearts, but the rest of them were dethroned and new Kings and Queens took over."

"And you know what the first thing they did was?" Phil said, his temper rising. "You know what they did? They abolished the Aces! Voted unanimously to strip them of rank, privilege, and honor. Any sort of graven image of them was destroyed, from pictures to newspaper articles, even older sets of these here playing cards. Gone!" Phil cried, banging his meaty palm on the table. "And the Frontier's not been the same since!"

"The Frontier's better off without the Aces," Toru said, aiming a finger at Phil. "They kept trainers down, set the bar too high for anyone to reach. Since the new Kings and Queens took over, more trainers have come to the Frontier, and more businesses have sprung up. The Frontier was stagnant with the Aces in power. All the new Kings and Queens did was stir up the waters."

"Yes, by removing the biggest fish, and their only natural predator. And more Trainers do come to the frontier, I'll give you that, but there aren't more businesses, just new ones where the old ones were shut down. And who shut them down, I wonder, and why? Not because they were bad businesses, more like because they refused to bend to the new Royalty. It almost happened here tonight, but you" he said, pointing at Corey, "were around to prevent it. And again, I can't thank you enough for it. Now," he said, calming down a little and picking up the cards, "I have work to do, and it's very late."

"Yeah, it's about time we were turning in anyway," Toru said, pushing his chair back. "Let's go, Corey. G'night, Phil." The two ascended the stairs and left Phil to take care of the dishes. He sighed slightly, then pulled two pokeballs from his belt and opened them. Out popped a short, muscular humanoid with three ridges on top of its head and a walking ball of green vines in a pair of red boots with large eyes staring out from the verdant mass.

"Machop, Tangela, c'mon. We have work to do," he said. He put the pack of cards in his pants pocket, then took up a tray and started to gather up the plates, his pokemon dutifully in tow.

"So do you and Phil always argue like that?"

"What? Oh, no, just on that one topic," Toru replied, opening the door to their room. It was decent-sized, with two beds and a bathroom, much as anyone would expect a normal hotel room to have. "Phil seems to think there's some kind of conspiracy going on to shut down businesses like his and open up others that profit the Houses, the Royalty in particular. I think he's paranoid."

Toru unslung his bag and flopped down on one of the beds. It seemed the night had finally caught up with him. Corey could feel it catching up with him, too, so he went into the bathroom and started to change into what passed for sleepwear- a pair of sweat pants and an old shirt.

"So have you ever been invited to one of the Houses?" he called.

"Me? No, but not for lack of trying. At the start of every season, there's a preliminary tournament for all the trainers. Those who do well sometimes get an invitation to join a House, but they only pass out about a dozen or so per House, and there's hundreds of Trainers participating," Toru replied with a small yawn. "Every year I try, but I always fall just short of getting that card."

Corey looked at the small plastic card he'd taken out of his pocket. He suddenly felt guilty for what he'd done- not for protecting Phil's inn, but for taking the card from the Knight of Jack. A living testament to perseverance and determination lay in the next room, and here he stood, holding what the other had been working for after just one night- and, as Phil had described it, because of a great deal of luck. He left the bathroom, still holding the card between his thumb and forefinger. "Is this thing transferable?" He asked, looking at Toru.

Toru stared at the card for a moment, then grinned and shook his head. "No. I wouldn't take it anyway- you earned it. Your Shiftry was pretty amazing back there. Speaking of which," he said, as if trying to change the subject, "what's the rest of your team look like?"

Corey put the card in his bag and pulled out his six pokeballs. "Well you saw Shiftry. This one," he said, pointing to a Lure Ball, "is Carracosta. This one's Infernape, Magneton's in this one, Ninjask's in here, and this one," he said, picking up a Luxury Ball, "is Altaria."

"That's a good team," Toru nodded. He reached into his bag and pulled out his six, one of which was a Net Ball. "Here's Sceptile, Electabuzz, Crobat, Toxicroak, Darmanitan, and Floatzel," he said, indicating the odd ball. "So which of yours will you be using in the prelims tomorrow?"

"The prelims are tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow morning. I saw you reading your letter on the ferry- didn't you know? They tell you about it right in there. Registration begins first thing in the morning, right after the parade."

"There's a parade?"

Toru rolled his eyes. "Yes, there's a parade. If we want to get a good spot to watch it from, we'd better get to sleep now and get up early tomorrow."

Corey suddenly realized how tired he was. "Good idea," he managed around a yawn. He unfolded the covers on his bed and was asleep almost immediately.

Toru sat up for a minute more, setting the alarm clock on the nightstand between their beds for the appropriate time. He set it down and stared at the House of Diamonds' invitation card that sat next to it. Unsavory ideas flashed through his mind for a brief moment, but he dismissed them with a shake of his head, rolled over and went to sleep.

This year, he'd get into one of the Houses. He could feel it.

Downstairs, Phil was putting away the last of the dishes. Tangela and Machop were already back in their balls, and he was just going to hit the lights when there came a knock at the back door. Upon inspection, Phil found a young twenty-something man with wavy, shoulder-length jet-black hair and a fu manchu, dressed in a black shirt and worn khaki cargo shorts standing on the doorstep.

And drinking from a stainless steel flask.

Phil sighed. "It's late, you know," he said.

"Yep," the man with the flask said, wiping his mouth on the side of his half-gloves. "It's late."

"And I just finished the dishes."

"Yeah, you probably did." There was a pause.

"I'll get the drinks," Phil sighed.

In no time, Phil and his impromptu guest were seated at a small table in the kitchen.

"So, what's new with the world?" the man with the flask asked.

"Well you probably saw the battle that went on tonight," Phil answered. "And you probably also saw that kid get invited to the House of Diamonds."

"Yeah, uh, about that kid…wassisname?"

"Corey…um, Grant. Corey Grant."

Flask snapped his fingers. "That's the one. One of our mutual acquaintances has an eye on him."

Phil gawked. "You don't mean…?"

"Yes I do. I think, sometime this season, we'll be putting our plan into action. Can we count on you when the time comes?" he asked, filling his flask from the bottle of grepa berry cider Phil had brought out.

"Of course, Giovanni. Whatever you and the others need."

The man with the flask stood to leave. "That's good to hear. You've been too good to us, Phil."

"And I'll continue to provide my services as long as you and the other Aces need them, such as they are."

Giovanni Moretti, formerly the Ace of the Royal House of Clubs, walked off into the night without another word.

End Chapter Three


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

A/N: Still working on the breaks. Also, reviews are appreciated. Sorry about the delay.

House of Cards

Chapter Four: Eyes

"You made the paper."

"I what?"

Phil tossed the front page of the Frontier Times, the daily newspaper, on the table. There, over a picture of Corey's Shiftry giving the Knight of Two's Vaporeon the business end of a Bullet Seed, the headline read, '_Novice Trainer Knocks Knight Down a Notch! Spectacular Smackdown on the Side Streets!' _There was a stirring editorial on the battle, the stakes, and the final result of the match. It even mentioned the invitation Corey received from the Knight of Jack.

"How did this hit the papers so quick?" Corey asked as Toru seized the paper and scanned the story, his mouth full of half-chewed scrambled Doduo eggs.

"Well, I might'a put in a call to the Times and sent 'em a picture I took," Phil said, grinning sheepishly, "but that's not the point! The point is, you're famous! The talk of Port Town! This year's rising star, the celebrity!"

"The guy to beat," Toru added through a mouthful of eggs. He swallowed. "Phil you just may as well have painted a target on his head! He's not going to get a moment's peace. I'd be surprised if there wasn't a crowd outside, right now, just waiting for him!"

"Well, about that…"

Corey and Toru balked and ran to the windows. There was, in fact, a crowd of reporters, trainers, and fans, eagerly gazing at the front doors to the Hospitable Hippowdon, waiting for them to open.

"Well damn," Toru said, grinning and finally swallowing his eggs. "You _are_ a celebrity." He scanned the crowd and smirked. "Wonder if that cute redhead's seeing anyone…"

"Cool your jets, she's probably waiting for me," Corey said, punching Toru in the arm. Toru definitely had an eye for the pretty ones, though; her hair wasn't just red, it was a deep rose color, worn in a ponytail, with two hanging locks neatly framing her heart-shaped face- definitely a dye job, but she made it work. She was tall, slender but not skinny, with slightly-darker-than-cream skin. She wore tall brown riding boots that didn't quite reach her knees, blue jeans that did nothing to hide the curves of her lower body, and a white button-down shirt, worn untucked over her pants. Despite her good looks and obvious appeal, her arms were folded under her ample bust and her face was set on the door in a cross gaze. She settled her weight on one leg, as if impatient or yet-to-be-impressed.

Corey moved away from the window. "Well, Phil, any bright ideas on how we can get out of here?"

"Just one," Phil said, still grinning, and threw open the double doors of his hotel. "Alright, folks," he boomed, "Mr. Grant will be out in a minute, so let me lay down some ground rules- one question at a time, no rushing the porch, and you," he said, indicating a gaggle of young female trainers, "no screaming. I got people upstairs still in bed." He turned back to Corey. "Floor's yours, kid. Knock 'em dead."

Corey gave Phil a resigned half-smile and stepped out onto the front veranda. Immediately, flash bulbs went off, reporters craned in for a comment of some kind, and some of the fangirls- for there really was no other word for them- did exactly as Phil explicitly asked them not to. Phil sent them a glowering stare that caused most to shrink back.

"Mr. Grant!" one reporter shouted, waving his hand excitedly. "Was it easy to beat the Knight of Two?"

"Ah, well…" Corey looked back at Toru, eyes begging for help. Toru shrugged. "Tell it like it was," he said.

Corey turned back. "Well, I'm going to be honest," he said, "yes. Yes it was. It wasn't the easiest battle I've ever had, but it was far from the hardest. The fact that Shiftry had the advantages of speed and type was crucial."

"So do you think the rest of the Knights will be as easy to beat?" another reporter asked, brandishing a microphone.

"Probably not, but there again, I'm not really looking to try," Corey responded. "I'm not going out looking to fight every trainer in every House."

"Speaking of Houses," one female reporter piped up, climbing over the reporter with the microphone, "do you have any idea if you'll be joining the House of Diamonds?"

"Well I'm not sure yet, but I'm definitely going to see them the day after tomorrow," Corey replied. "It'd be rude to turn down the invitation."

"What about the other Houses?" someone Corey couldn't see called from the back.

"I'm keeping my options open right now. I have an invitation to one House, but if I get more I'll definitely visit them all."

"What pokemon will you be using in today's preliminary tournament?" This from a trainer, who almost looked ready to jump over Phil's understood barricade and challenge whatever so much as moved next to a battle.

Corey laughed nervously. "That's a surprise," he said. _Even to me, _he thought. He still had no idea how many pokemon he could use.

"On that note," Toru said, walking up next to Corey and putting one arm over his shoulders, "we really need to get going. Come on," he said, "we're going to have to move quick if we want to get there in time."

"I believe I may be of some assistance with that," a voice called from down the street.

The cameras previously trained on Corey immediately swiveled and started snapping pictures of the carriage coming up the street. It was drawn by a pair of Zebstrika, teamed by two men, and carried three more passengers. There was a great deal of commotion as the carriage pulled up to the Hospitable Hippowdon and stopped. One of the teamsters, dressed in a red shirt with a white vest, pants, and shoes, hopped down from the front of the carriage and hastily opened a side door, lowered a set of steps, and then- to show the passengers were persons of considerable interest- unrolled a short red carpet, which the crowd hastily moved to either side of.

The first passenger to disembark was a young man, not more than a few years Corey's senior. He carried a gold walking stick in his leather-gloved hand, but his physique proved it was just for show. He wore a white silk shirt with a high collar and sleeves that ballooned a bit around the wrists before being cinched at the cuffs, a red vest, flawless white pants and shoes, and a winning smile on a face that was clearly used to page one of any given periodical. He had romance novella good looks- blue eyes, blonde hair, white teeth, and a small flaxen soul patch on the chin of his square jawline. He waved, bowed, and greeted the small gathering as if had been a stadium filled to capacity.

His companions, both female, were definitely less robust than their male counterpart, though they were both still smiling. They had to be twins, Corey thought, right down to their clothes. Both wore white sun dresses and closed-toe sandals with just a slightly elevated heel. Their dresses were overlaid with a bright red corset each, tailored so that it bore the appearance of a heart, the tops of the piece forming the top parts of the heart and a red cloth extending below the waist to form the point. Like their male companion, both were blonde, wearing their hair in a bun on the top and rear of their heads and leaving one long lock to hang on either side of their faces. All three had a small white heart on the left side of their vests. The one thing that set them apart were their armbands- one girl bore a large red number ten and the other a nine.

The man had a large red letter K encircled by a gold crown embroidered on his.

"That's Harald Godwinston, King of the Royal House of Hearts," Toru gasped, elbowing Corey in the ribs. His comment went unheard to anyone but Corey due to the increased pith of female shrieks emanating from the group of groupies.

"Great. What do we do?"

"Call him Your Majesty and hope for the best. And speak first- Kings never speak first."

Godwinston stopped at the foot of the steps that led to the porch. He let the walking stick strike the pavement beside him with a resounding _clack, _beaming up at the pair of gawking trainers_. _An awkward silence followed.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," Corey stammered slightly.

"And to you!" Godwinston replied. "I assume you know who I am?"

"I do, Your Majesty Godwinston." Corey replied, at last finding a voice that didn't tremble. He wasn't afraid, per se, but if the King of Hearts was looking for the same thing the Knight of Two had been the night before, Corey wasn't sure he was up to the challenge.

"And I know who you are, Corey Grant," Godwinston said, twirling the walking stick so it rested on one shoulder. "I wake up this morning, and what do I see on the front page of my morning paper? A novice trainer, giving the Knight of Two of the House of Diamonds a battle, and one Hell of a battle, if the reports are to be believed." He leaned over a bit. "Are the reports to be believed?" he asked seriously.

"They are, Your Majesty."

Godwinston straightened up and went on smiling. "Well, that being the case, I said to myself, 'Godwinston,' I said, 'Godwinston, here is an upstanding youth with the talent to move the Royal House of Hearts forward. You must go call on him at once!' And so I did, and now here we are, surrounded by the press, and you," he said, gesturing with the cane, "are running late, yes?"

"A little, Majesty."

"Then I shall take you to the Arena in my carriage. We can talk on the way," he said, turning. As if thinking twice, he turned back. "If you see fit, that is."

Corey's mouth opened and closed like a Magikarp. "Of course he'll go," Toru said, nudging Corey in the back. Corey nodded in the affirmative.

Godwinston seemed to notice Toru for the first time. "And who are you?" he asked, once again pointing his cane.

"Toru Caruso, a friend of Corey's, Majesty," Toru replied, bowing a little.

"Then as you are a friend of my guest, and also running late, you may ride in the carriage as well. Come along," he said, turning back to the carriage again.

Corey and Toru walked down the steps and along the red carpet, side by side, as flashbulbs went off and newsmen scrambled to write down details.

"I told you great things would happen to us," Toru said. Corey was finding it increasingly hard to argue.

…

Back in the Hospitable Hippowdon, Phil scowled as he watched the carriage disappear around the corner.

"Go appraise your mistress of the situation," he growled to a rose-haired young woman sitting at one of the tables. "Tell her Godwinston's gotten involved. She'll love that, I bet."

"I'm sure the Ace of Spades will too," she said evenly, but with an edge to her voice. She'd snuck around the building as the carriage had pulled into view and in through the back door.

"Oh he'll be in a wonderful mood after he hears about this. By the way," he called after the retreating trainer, "what'd you think of him?"

She paused. "I think he's an arrogant ass," she replied, "but if the Ace of Spades sees something in him and my mistress tells me to keep an eye on him, I will. Make sure you do the same." She disappeared through the kitchen.

End Chapter Four


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

A/N: The breaks finally work, which is good because I'm going to be using them a lot this chapter.

House of Cards

Chapter Five: Interest

"So, where do you come from?" Godwinston asked as the carriage trundled down the main street of Port Town. He and the twins (for twins they were) were seated in the back end of the carriage facing forwards, with Corey and Toru in the front facing backwards. The carriage was nicely-upholstered in a deep red velvet, and sitting across from the King of Hearts and two of his Knights in their finery, Corey couldn't help but feel underdressed. Truthfully, he was wearing his best button-down black shirt, left open over a new white t-shirt, and his least-worn pair of jeans, but the difference between their clothing made Corey feel downright shabby in comparison.

"I'm originally from Rustboro City in the Hoenn region, Majesty," Corey replied.

Godwinston waved his hand dismissively, the one that wasn't draped over the shoulders of the Knight of Nine. "You can stop calling me that," he said. "The press isn't around, and we're all friends here, right?" Corey nodded. "Good. Now, on to business. Last night you did something that really grabbed the attention of the Royal Houses, and I have to say, I'm downright impressed. Beating a Page from any House is one thing, but beating a Knight- even the Knight of Two- isn't something you just ignore. Is it, Maya?"

"Certainly not, milord," the Knight of Nine responded.

"And something like that deserves a reward, don't you think, Mia?"

"Of course, milord," replied the Knight of Ten.

"And what would you say, Corey, if I were to offer you the opportunity to become a Page in the Royal House of Hearts?"

"I- I would be honored, but-"

"Well then it's agreed. Tomorrow, you will come to Heart Manor, and we'll discuss induction, and- what's the problem?" Godwinston asked, noticing Corey's raised hand.

"I was saying that I'd be honored, but I haven't done anything to earn it," Corey said sheepishly.

"What are you talking about?" Godwinston asked, his smile gone. "You beat the Knight of Two, didn't you? Don't tell me you're going to reject my generosity?" Godwinston's eyes were getting harder by the second, and Corey wasn't the only one who noticed.

"My liege," the Knight of Ten said, placing one hand on Godwinston's knee, "he does not mean to spurn your magnanimous attentions. All he wishes is to prove to you that your trust is not ill-placed."

"Clearly, sire," the Knight of Nine cooed, "he stands in awe of you, and merely wants to feel as though he deserves to be counted among us." She turned and looked Corey directly in the eye. "Isn't that right?" Her eyes were fixed in a serious gaze that suggested subtly that agreement was in his best interest.

"Oh, of course, Majesty," Corey said quickly. Clearly the King of Hearts wasn't a man used to hearing the word 'no.'

Godwinston's face brightened almost immediately. "Oh, is that all! Very well- today's tournament is divided into eight blocks. The top two trainers from each block will join the winner's circle and battle it out for the top spot. If you make the top…eight? Yes, if you make the top eight I'll make your invitation official." Godwinston looked at Toru. "I suppose the same goes for you," he said mildly. "If you make the top four, you'll be on the guest list as well."

"Thank you, Majesty," Toru said. He didn't question why his invitation would come a round later than Corey's.

"Well now," Godwinston said, sitting back, "I think the parade will be starting soon."

"It will? Then we better find a good place to watch it from," Corey said, picking up his bag.

Godwinston laughed. "Watch it? Why? You're about to be in it!"

As the carriage turned the next corner, Corey saw that the streets were lined with people, and theirs had become one of a string of many carriages, floats, and marching bodies moving down the wide boulevard to the Arena. A marching band was already in front of them, playing something heroic and uplifting.

"Smile and wave, everyone," Godwinston said.

…

Three carriages behind Godwinston's, three people sat, neither smiling nor waving. The first, a large man in a white vest over black shoes, pants, and shirt, had his broad arms over the back of the rear seat. A small white club symbol was embroidered on the left side of his vest, and on his left arm was a white armband with a black letter J on it. His skin was tanned, and his head clean-shaven. His nose looked like it had been broken at least once. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Think we'll see any worthwhile candidates this year?" he asked with a voice that sounded like a box of rocks.

The second passenger, another man dressed the same as the first, thumbed his pencil mustache. He was considerably smaller than the first man, his skin was much paler, and where his companion was bald, his own dark hair was slicked back on his head. His armband bore a black letter K encircled by a gold crown. "I certainly hope so," he said in a thick voice. "The pickings have been slim lately. Last year's candidates were terribly inadequate, and judging from this year's roster, I don't think we'll pass out a single invitation."

"What about the trainer who defeated the Knight of Two from the House of Diamonds last night?" the third passenger, a young woman, asked. Her voice was like the satin her black dress was made from. Its top was formed by a large white club icon, its side wings forming the cups of her bodice. On her armband was a white letter Q encircled by a tiara. "Surely he is of interest."

The King of Clubs turned to his Queen. "I hadn't heard about that. What's his name?"

The Knight of Jack pulled a newspaper clipping from his pocket. "Corey Grant. Apparently he's already been approached by the Knight of Jack from the same House."

The King sat back, disappointed. "Well then we may be too late. Still, if he performs well today, we should invite him to the House. Make a note, Antony," he said to the Knight of Jack, "that if this… Corey Grant makes it to the winner's circle, he's to be shown all courtesy."

"And if he doesn't, sire?" Antony asked.

The woman grinned. "Then we have no need of him. Isn't that right, Merovech?"

The King matched his Queen's grin. "Quite right, Morgan. If he is weak, he is useless. And you know how I hate useless things."

…

"Can't this parade move any faster?" the young woman in the carriage behind Godwinston's complained. She wore a white dress with a red diamond whose upper point formed a point between her bosoms. Her flaxen hair flowed in marvelously down over her shoulders, framing her pouting face, which rested on one lily-white hand.

"Patience, my Queen. We shall arrive soon enough," Tolouse Levesque, Knight of Jack of the House of Diamonds, replied. He wore his usual finery, as did the man seated next to the Queen of Diamonds.

The young man, who could only be the King of Diamonds, sighed. "Tolouse, when we get to the arena, you'd better point out this trainer you've invited to me," he said. He sounded as impatient as the Queen.

"Of course, sire," Tolouse replied. "I wouldn't have done so if he hadn't shown some promise beating the Knight of Two."

"I see. Speaking of which, what are we doing about Guillaume?" the King asked. "His failure hasn't gone unpunished, I trust?"

"Indeed not, sire. He has been put on probation- another loss like that and we'll be looking for a new Knight of Two. He's also been restricted to the House for at least a week."

The Queen of Diamonds switched from staring out the carriage to resting against the King. "Oh Charles, when we get to the arena, will we have that sparkling chesto berry drink I love so much?"

Chrles LaForte, King of Diamonds, sighed deeply. "Yes, Mydia, and there will be sparkling chesto berry drinks, and hondew berry tarts, and whatever else you could possibly want. If something is missing, I will see to it personally that you are supplied with it at once."

Mydia DelMar, Queen of Diamonds, smiled sweetly. "There's a reason I love you, do you know that?"

Tolouse looked down at his datapad, pretending not to notice the unseemly display in front of him. _Thank goodness this is a covered cart, _he thought. Scrolling down the electronic newsreel, he spotted something interesting- a photo of a very familiar trainer meeting with the King of Hearts. He frowned. _So Godwinston's gotten to him…how unfortunate. I wonder if _that _House will take an interest…?_

…

The third carriage in the procession, open-topped and drawn by a team of six Tauros, played host to the Royals of the House of Spades.

"I don't know why we bother," the first said. She was young, not much more than a girl, with olive skin and dark brown hair. She fidgeted with the hem of her white dress. A large black spade icon came to a point on her chest. "We haven't recruited a new Page in two years. Why is this year going to be any different?"

"No one said it would be," the second, another woman, said. She wore a dress identical to the first girl's. "But the King has a feeling it will. There's been talk of a first-year, the one who beat the Knight of Two from the Diamond House. That's why we're going, Moira."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," the first girl said. Her face split into a lascivious grin. "I saw his picture in the newspaper. If we recruit him, he's mine."

The young woman frowned. "Now that's not fair. You got the last three," she said plaintively. "Maybe if you weren't so impossible to be around, your bedmates would stick around a while longer," she added with a sneer.

The girl frowned. "And maybe if I wasn't the Queen of Spades," she said, indicating her armband, "I'd take offense to that, Esmeralda. But, seeing as how I still outrank you," she mocked, nodding at the older one's armband, which bore a large black letter J, "I'm willing to pass it off as the jealous ranting of an inferior Knight."

"Trollop."

"Harlot."

"Quiet, both of you."

At last the third passenger spoke. He was dressed in black from head to toe- shirt, vest, pants, shoes and all. Only his armband was white, a large black letter K encircled by a gold crown emblazoned upon it. His dark hair hung down in front of his gaunt face, and despite his slight frame, when he spoke he exuded a certain force that silenced the squabbling women.

"This Grant kid is the only- I'll say it again, the _ONLY_- reason we're here today. We're not looking to add to anyone's harem," he said, throwing a sharp glance at the Queen of Spades. "We're here to recruit Corey Grant. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my King," the two women replied in unison.

"Good," said Dimitri Novgorod, King of Spades. "Very good."

…

On a hill overlooking the parade route, a man was sitting on a bench. In one hand he held a paper tray of fried potatoes with melted cheese on top.

In the other, a flask.

Giovanni Moretti watched the parade carry on. The tray of deep fried tubers balanced on his knees, he took a deep draught from his flask- it was the last of Phil's drink.

"Hello," said a man who hadn't been there a second earlier.

Giovanni nearly spat the drink out. "Dammit. I hate when you do that." The second man wore a pair of faded jeans, a black tank top, and a leather vest and biker boots. His hair was unruly and hung down in front of his eyes in dirty brown locks, obscuring all but the lower half of his face. He looked as though he was either in the process of losing weight or putting it back on- broad shoulders, thick arms, and a solid torso, but going to fat a little all over. He snatched Giovanni's paper tray of ate a few of the fried spuds.

"I hate when you do that too," Giovanni said, snatching it back. He jammed a few of the potato wedges into his mouth for emphasis, but the other man didn't seem to mind much. "So," Giovanni said through a mouthful of potatoes, "here we are, watching the parade carry on, and missing out on the prelims again." He looked at the other man, who was still chewing thoughtfully. "D'you really think this kid's the one you've been looking for?"

The other man swallowed. "I think," he said, "that today's matches will be an excellent opportunity to find out. It's a good indicator that all the Houses are interested in him, though."

"All of them?"

A nod from the second man. "Godwinston got to him this morning, gave 'em the old razzle-dazzle," he said, waving his hands with fingers splayed for emphasis. "And I know the other two Houses will at least have taken notice."

Giovanni looked back at the procession, away down the hill. "You should talk to her, you know," he said.

"I already spoke to Alizabeth, and all the Jokers are entering the prelims…"

"You know what I meant," Giovanni cut in. "You should talk to her."

The other turned and looked Giovanni in the eyes. "I've got nothing to say to her. Not after what she did," he said with only a sliver of restrained wrath in his voice, "and that's the end of it."

Giovanni put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Fine, forget I said anything."

The other sighed and turned back to the parade. It was almost over- Godwinston's carriage was almost to the Arena. "I should get going. I don't want to miss any of this kid's battles." He snatched up the paper tray again, and before Giovanni could protest, he blinked out of existence.

Giovanni groaned and looked around. With mild curiosity, he noticed a fold of large bills sitting on the bench beside him where the second man had been sitting a moment before, bound with a rubber band. He unrolled the bills and thumbed through them. There was enough to buy at least fifty more trays of fried potatoes.

Giovanni grinned. "Thanks, Ace," he said to no one in particular. "I hope the kid lives up to your expectations," he said to himself. Pocketing the money and taking another drink from his flask, Giovanni headed down the hill and toward the Arena.

End Chapter Five


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

House of Cards

Chapter Six: Contact

"Make a note, Mister Usher," he said, striding down the corridor, his white chrome walking stick making a dull thump against the plush carpeting with every other step. His white three-piece suit was neatly tailored, with onyx buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves. He walked with an air of sophistication and a sense of purpose in his stride. "The House of Clubs has requested a fifth screen in their box; please make sure that is seen to."

"Yes, Mister Dia," the one called Usher said. He scribbled the first man's instructions on a pocket notepad. His own dress was not unlike that of his superior, save that he lacked the suit jacket and the sleeves of his lavender shirt were neatly rolled up to the elbows.

"Another note, Mister Usher," the man called Dia continued, moving a stray strand of long black hair out of his face, "see that the House of Diamonds' box is supplied with hondew berry tarts. The King of Diamonds has requested them personally for the Queen."

"At once, Mister Dia," Usher replied. More scribbling.

The pair finally reached a set of double doors made of rich wood from the Johto region. "Another note, Mister Usher. The Queen of Hearts has commented on the chilliness of her box upon entry this morning. Please see that it is kept at a comfortable seventy-two degrees in the future."

"Of course, Mr. Dia." Scribble, scribble, scribble.

Dia rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Another note, Mister Usher. Please have the private entrance to the Arena ready for the King of Spades and his retinue. He will be most displeased if there is no one there to receive him. In fact, see to that personally. Right now."

"On my way already, Mr. Dia." The young man was off like a shot. Dia watched the younger man disappear down the hallway. Sighing, he turned and threw open the doors of his office.

Dia's office was fairly large- enough to accommodate a miniature bar, a desk made from the same high-quality wood as the doors, his own leather chair, and two more high-backed chairs facing the desk. Behind the desk, a large window afforded Dia an excellent view of the Arena. There was even a tasteful potted plant standing in one of the corners, next to a bookshelf recessed into the wall. The whole room was carpeted in plush burgundy, same as the hallway.

Dia walked over to the mini bar and selected a clean crystal balloon glass. He dropped in three glistening ice cubes from the ice chest, followed by a generous helping of hard pomeg cider.

"Make it a double, if you don't mind, Ionann" someone called from his desk.

Dia turned to see a man sitting at his desk- not in one of the guest chairs, but in _his _chair, with his dirty biker boots propped up on top of the desk. It was odd- not because Ionann Dia didn't know the man, but because he was sure the man hadn't been there when he walked in.

"You're certainly welcome here anytime," he said, picking up another glass, "but I must ask you to please observe the provisions I make for any guest. First off, no feet on the desk." Ionann noticed with some satisfaction that the man had in fact removed his feet from the desk. "Second, that's my chair," he continued, dropping in the ice cubes and drink, "so get out of it." The man shrugged, stood, and walked around to one of the less-comfortable high-backed chairs on the other side of the desk. He plopped down as Ionann brought the drinks over.

"Thanks," the man said, picking up his crystal balloon and taking a sip of the cider. He smacked his lips appreciatively. "You always drink this early in the morning?"

"Do you?" Ionann countered, sitting down. He noticed there were, in fact, two guests- the man and an Abra, sitting in the other guest chair and quietly munching fried potatoes covered in cheese sauce from a paper tray. "I see you've already spoken to Giovanni," he said, noting the nature of the little psychic's snack.

"That's right. He's gotten the Jokers in place. Soon as we're done here I'll be going to see Alizabeth."

Ionann snorted. "So what exactly happened to all of us not being in the same place?"

The man shrugged. "Last night accelerated the plans a bit. Besides, we're still far enough apart that no more than two of us will be together at the same time." He took another gulp of the drink. "Anyway, the reason I'm here- is the box ready?"

Ionann sat back in his chair and took a sip of the cider. "Yes. The door will be locked, with no way of opening it from the outside, so you'll have to use him," he said, indicating the Abra, "to get in. I don't suppose that will be much of a problem?"

"It won't."

"Excellent. The box will also have privacy glass, so anyone trying to look in is going to have a problem seeing you."

"Wonderful. And what about the Jokers' identities? They'll be falsified, I trust?"

Ionann smiled almost wickedly. "You don't get to be top tournament organizer for the Royal Houses without having access to a few of the systems. The work is seamless, I'll add- no one will suspect a thing. Here they are," he said, handing a note card to his guest, who took it and put it in his pocket.

The other man drained the last of his glass. "Good to hear," he said. "One last question. Your Joker, will he be…?"

"Of course. As of right now he's greeting the King of Spades at the private entrance. Oh don't give me that look," he said, noticing his guest's scowl, "I hate having to bend over backwards for these pompous asses, but if I didn't, I'd never be able to give you all sorts of wonderful information on them."

"Such as?" the other asked. He cocked an eyebrow, but didn't stop scowling.

"Such as, the Queen of Hearts and the Knight of Jack from the same House arrived by their own carriage today. They didn't ride in with Godwinston."

"Well I knew that," the other said. "Godwinston was off trying to recruit that Grant trainer. He wouldn't have had room for-"

"No, you don't understand," Ionann interrupted, "they haven't arrived in the same carriage as Godwinston to any event, basically ever." The other man closed his mouth and resumed scowling, but Ionann continued. "Not to tournaments, not to feature battles, not even to promotional events. It's as if she doesn't want to be anywhere _near_ him." Ionann leaned across his desk and looked his guest in the eye. "She's alone, in the box across the way, right now. Go talk to her. Ask her why, if nothing else."

The other man met Ionann's eyes with a gaze that could chill even a Mamoswine. "I've nothing to say to her. She betrayed us, when we thought she was the only person we could trust to have our backs. I don't need to hear from her what happened, Ionann, I was there. And so were you."

Ionann looked at his walking stick. Atop the wide head of the cane sat a single red gemstone, cut to a perfect diamond. He fingered it absently. "I know," he said, "I know. I'll drop the subject for today, but if you want to go through with this plan, you're going to have to see her sometime."

The other man stood to go, his glass empty. He reached down to the small humanoid pokemon sitting in the other chair. Abra tossed the now empty paper tray across the room. It floated neatly around Ionann's desk and into a wastebasket. Its garbage disposed of, the Abra clambered up the other man's bare arm and onto his shoulder. It hooked its tail around the side of its trainer's neck.

"Trust me, Ionann, I know that. For the time being, I really do wish you and Giovanni would lay off the subject altogether. I just have to go see Alizabeth, then I'll head on over to my box. Thank you, by the way, for your help and the drink."

Ionann shrugged. "Not a problem. I hope you find what you're looking for today."

"I have a feeling I will," he said, and then he was gone, blinking out of existence as though he'd never been there.

Ionann sat for a moment and looked at the top of his cane again. _It won't be long now, _he thought. _It'll be like it was before. The roaring crowd, the high-stakes battles, all of it. _Ionann stood and looked out the window. Eight small stone platforms, each marked with a large white numeral, sat in two rows on the Arena's floor. Some trainers were already filing in, lining up at each of the miniature rings.

Ionann Dia, former Ace of Diamonds, drained his crystal balloon.

…

"So Godwinston got to this…what's his name again, Corey? Corey Grant?"

"Yes, Mistress. I am sorry I was not fast enough to speak to him first, Mistress."

A stone's throw from the Arena, three young women sat in a coffee house sharing breakfast. They were sitting in an upper room with an excellent view of the parade route- though none had really been watching it. The first, a girl with dark red hair, had been speaking to another, a slightly older woman with curly black hair, wearing a simple sky-blue sun dress. The third, a dark-skinned young woman, was entirely to engrossed in her meal to take part in the conversation, and in any case none of it concerned her. Stains of indiscriminate origin covered her gray tank top, and her faded dark blue jumpsuit was tied off at her waist over a pair of black work boots. Her unruly brown hair was tied in a frizzy mass at the back of her head.

"It's quite alright," the woman said, taking a sip of her tea. It was an aromatic blend of tea leaves and the juice of the sitrus berry. "Godwinston's an overbearing individual- at times he can't quite restrain himself. I expect this Grant person will pick up on that and try not to be gang-pressed into the House of Hearts." She set the cup down on its saucer and reached for the last scone, but a hand snatched it away.

The hand hadn't belonged to anyone sitting at the table.

"I was wondering when you'd get here," the woman with the black hair said.

"Just got back from talking to Ionann," the newcomer replied. He was wearing a black leather vest, and an Abra sat on his shoulder. "And I already spoke to your brother, Alizabeth."

"Good. How's he doing?" the woman with the dark hair, Alizabeth Moretti, asked.

"Just fine. I think his complaints about money will be silenced for a bit- I dropped him a little extra cash this morning."

The woman with the dark skin swallowed the last of her eggs. "I'll thank you, since my boss probably hasn't," she said, grinning broadly. "We'll actually be able to eat something other than reconstituted noodles in a cup."

"In the meantime," the man said, "Ionann's done his job well. He's arranged for your fake names to be put in the registry." He took a note card from his pocket and read from it. "Miss Rae, you'll be going in as Miss Fumioko Yamanaka."

"Yes sir," the girl with the deep red hair said.

"And you, Miss Usaco," he said, turning his attention to the dark-skinned girl, "today's name is Hannah Guilden. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" she grinned, giving a mock-salute. "Miss Hannah Guilden, reporting for duty!"

"Good. Oh and ladies, one last thing," he said, turning to the open doorway that faced out onto the street. "You and Mister Usher will all be in separate blocks, from each other and the trainer called Corey Grant. Be as rough as you like in the regular matches, but-"

"I hope," Alizabeth said, interrupting the man in the vest, "that you're not honestly asking our Jokers to hold back against this Mister Grant, are you?"

"Quite the opposite. I was going to say, when you get to the top sixteen, I want you to really turn it on. Pull out all the stops, I don't give a Rattata's ass. Show them you mean business."

"You're assuming he's going to make it that far?" Rae said, almost incredulously.

"I don't assume. I know he will," the man in the vest replied. "Now you have your orders. Get moving, ladies." The two younger women left, leaving Alizabeth alone with the man in the vest.

"I wanted that scone, you know," she said, half-mocking, half-serious.

The man in the vest looked down at the uneaten biscuit in his hand. He shrugged and tossed it back on the plate, but Alizabeth didn't touch it.

"You have such a way with women, Kale," she said. The comment dripped with sarcasm.

"Now don't you start too," he said, wagging a warning finger at her. "I already got enough from Ionann and your brother, I don't need to hear about- about _her- _from you, too."

"I was just being facetious," she said testily, "but if you want my opinion-"

"I don't," Kale replied.

"You're going to get it anyway," Alizabeth said, picking up her teacup again. "I think-" but before she could speak, Kale vanished.

Alizabeth Moretti, former Ace of Hearts, sipped her tea. Then she realized she was the only one left to pay the bill. "Fu-"

…

Kale blinked into existence in a dimly-lit room. The wall across from him was dominated by a large window, tinted to allow him to see out but not others to see in. A squashy armchair, similar to the one Ionann had in his office, sat in the middle of the room in front of a monitor. A miniature refrigerator was recessed into the wall to the left of the chair.

Kale flopped down in the chair. Abra hopped onto the back and started to doze. Kale flipped the monitor on. A list of trainers went on and on, so he used the side buttons to scroll down until he found the name 'Grant, Corey,' and selected it. Immediately, he was given a bird's-eye view of the arena. It zoomed in on one trainer in particular, his black button-down shirt open over a white t-shirt.

Kale Nolan, former Ace of Spades, gazed at the screen with mounting anticipation. "Show's all yours, kid," he said to the screen. "Show me I'm not wrong."

End Chapter Six

A/N: Reviews are appreciated- I'm sorry it's all exposition right now, the plot's going to pick up next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

House of Cards

Chapter Seven: Combat

"Why is it every time I go someplace new, someone tries to give me a new electronic gadget that does all the same old useless crap my old one does?" He turned the small, foldable device in his hands. It was blue with red trim painted on the plastic; opening it revealed a full keyboard with a touch screen, the stylus for which locked into the side next to an extendable antenna.

"What makes you think this gadget is useless?"

"Well the last time I got one I was touring the Johto region. I got this thing called a Pokegear. It was a phone, a map, and a bunch of other stuff all in one, and while that sounds cool, all it did was let some kid named Joey tell me about his Rattata three times a day. I shit you not, he called me once to tell me he thought the thing was evolving, but it just had gas."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I tried getting rid of his number, but he still had mine, so he just kept on calling. Eventually I just took the battery out and never used it again."

Trou burst out laughing. "You're right, that is pretty useless- I'll give you that much. But this isn't a Pokegear, it's a Battle Frontier Gadget, or BFG for short."

"That acronym's not trademarked?" Corey asked.

"Apparently not. Silph Co. issues these things, so you know it's top-quality. It's another one of those all-in-one gadgets you love so much- first and foremost, yes, it is a map. Second, it allows you to remotely challenge any other registered trainer in the Frontier. Third, it tracks your rank in the Frontier Standings. After all that, it's still a watch, compass, and so on."

"I assume the Frontier Standing is a roster of how we're ranked in this mass contest we've just entered? How do we determine standings?"

The butt of Toru's hand met his forehead. "You don't pay attention much, do you? The preliminaries today give us a formatted method for determining the initial standings- whoever wins today become the favorites to win it all. Aside from actually winning, your rank goes up if people you lose to do well. There's a whole point system, but-"

"-you didn't pay attention to exactly how it works." Corey finished with a sarcastic grin. "Whatever. All you had to say was, 'Go out there and win.' Not like I planned on doing anything else, but…"

Toru barked out a laugh. "Yeah. Well, I'm in Flight 4 and you're in Flight 6, so best of luck. Which ones did you pick again?"

Corey took out his three pokeballs. "I went with Carracosta, Infernape, and Magneton."

"No Shiftry?"

"Nah, people would expect that. Who're you using?"

"Electabuzz, Toxicroak, and Floatzel. Guess I'm covered on a couple bases."

"Right. Best of luck. See you in the top sixteen," Corey said, raising a fist.

"You know it," Toru replied, bumping his own against it.

…

"Well, there they are," James Usher said, fiddling with one of his pokeballs absently.

"He doesn't look like much," Aiko Rae- though for the day she'd go by Fumioko Yamanaka- observed, rolling one of her own round on her palm.

"Well it's a good thing we're not here to judge him," Alejandra Usaco said, "we're here to test him." In her head, she repeated her false name over and over again; Hannah Guilden, Hannah Guilden, _Hannah Guilden._

"Then let's get testing. I'm in Flight Three. How about you, _Miss Yamanaka_?"

"Seven, and my friend Hannah's in Flight Eight."

"Which reminds me," Alejandra/Hannah asked, "why do you get to keep your name?"

"Because I'm known to the Royalty. You're not. Now get moving, whoever you two are- the prelims are starting."

…

Corey walked up the steps to the ring with a large white six painted on it. In the middle of the ring stood the referee, and on the other side was a young trainer, obviously his opponent- in fact, it was the same overeager trainer from outside the Hospitable Hippowdon that very morning. When he saw Corey, his face brightened up immediately.

"Hey! It's you! This is awesome!" he yelled. The rest of the trainers in the Flight turned to look. "I can't believe my first battle is against the guy who beat the Knight of Two! I can't wait to beat you!"

Corey scowled a little. "What's your name, pal?"

"Me? I'm Reginald Gunrad from the Kanto region!"

"Well, Reginald," Corey said, picking one of his pokeballs out, "I didn't come here today to make you look good, so let's get the ball rolling."

"All right, that's enough," the referee said. "Let's get to it. Both competitors will release their pokemon simultaneously. Any delay will result in a penalty; three penalties is a disqualification. It's a one-on-one match- one knockout is a win, no substitutions, and no moves that would cause a substitution. Ready?" Both trainers cocked their arms back, balls in hand. "Begin!"

Reginald's ball burst open, revealing a large brown bird with a red crown atop its long-beaked head; a Fearow. Corey's released his Infernape.

"Fearow! Use Drill Peck!" Reginald cried.

_Playing to his advantage, _Corey thought. "Infernape, dodge, then Flamethrower!"

The Fearow flew up high, hovered for a moment, then started a swift descent. As it went into near free-fall, it spun faster and faster until it became a large brown blur. Just before it hit Infernape, the simian dodged to the right and unleashed a spear of flame from its mouth as the avian passed. Fearow pulled out of the dive in time to avoid hitting the ground, but could not do the same to the fire. The flames struck its wing, causing the bird to cry out. Its flight was slower and it listed to the right; its wing was clearly burned.

"Infernape, finish it! Sky Uppercut!"

"Fer-NAPE!" the fiery primate cried as it took a fantastic leap at the ailing bird. Its fist connected beautifully with Fearow's torso. Infernape turned in the air and landed on its feet.

Fearow fell and landed on the arena floor.

A cheer rose up from the crowd gathered around Flight Six's ring to the point where the referee had to shout to be heard, declaring Corey the winner.

…

"Well damn, he's won already. That sure didn't take long," Kale said, sipping sparkling grepa berry cider from a glass. "Wonder how the kid he came in with is doing?"

Poorly, it turned out. Toru's Electabuzz was struggling to fend off relentless attacks from a Ferrothorn. The steel- and grass-type pokemon was turning out to be a tough matchup for him- it was keeping its yellow and black opponent at a distance using a constant barrage of either Pin Missile or Poison Sting. Kale couldn't tell which- the screen resolution was just picking up pellets of light flying through the air. What Kale could tell was that, even if Electabuzz got close enough to land a blow, it wasn't going to do a ton of damage with its electric attacks; it was at a twofold disadvantage type-wise.

Suddenly, Electabuzz managed to break through the volley and make a dash at Ferrothorn. Its fists lit up, not with lightning, but with bright orange flames. It hammered one of its burly arms down on the main body of the metallic weed, making for a quick knockout.

"Fire Punch," Kale said thoughtfully. "Not bad. Kid knows his stuff, anyway." He refilled his glass from the bottle sitting on the table. "Better check in on the kids," he said as he flipped through the roster. Two of the matches were already decided- Alejandra/Hannah won a resounding victory using her Medicham to bring down a Mightyena, and James beat a Meinshao with his Skarmory. The only match left was Aiko/Fumioko's. From what he saw on the screen, Kale could tell the match was almost over.

…

"Come on, Rapidash, use Flame Charge!" Aiko called. Whinnying, the flaming horse charged its opponent, a Claydol, for the fifth time. It had been throwing up Barriers and Light Screens all match to lessen the damage it took while it unleashed blasts of psychic energy. Some had hit Rapidash, and while the tenacious horse was still on its feet, Aiko knew it couldn't take much more. Victory or defeat would be the outcome of its next charge.

As it ran, Rapidash's flaming mane grew and engulfed its head and forelegs. As it picked up speed, Aiko's opponent ordered Claydol to use Barrier again. The multi-eyed creature tried to form a defensive wall, but Rapidash's speed had been increasing with each attack. Before the wall went up, Rapidash struck its opponent with tremendous force. Claydol, already on the receiving end of a good amount of damage itself, crashed to the ground.

"Winner, miss Fumioko Yamanaka!" the referee shouted, raising a green flag. Aiko exhaled, then took out a Luxury Ball and recalled Rapidash. After handing it over to the referee for healing, she turned and headed down the platform steps.

"Hey babe," someone called as she made her way toward the massive, constantly-updating rank board, "whaddaya say? If I beat you next round, you give me your number?"

Aiko whirled around to face the man calling for her. He was a few years her senior, and while he wasn't bad-looking, he was nothing to write home about, either. What drew her attention most wasn't his hair (dark, perfectly coiffed), his looks (decent enough), or his posture (haughty). It was his clothes- and how they marked him out as a Page from the House of Clubs. That, and that alone, made him revolting.

Still, she smiled sweetly and sauntered over to him. With each step she took, the young man seemed to become more and more cocksure. "What's your name, handsome?" she asked in her best come-hither tone.

It was brutally effective- the young man started to perspire and he barely managed to stammer out his name. "N-name's Ken. Ken West."

"Well, Kenny," Aiko cooed, placing one hand on his chest, "you wanna know what I think about your proposal?"

Ken grinned stupidly. "Sure."

Aiko grabbed Ken's necktie and pulled him close so that his ear was right next to her mouth. "I think you're a no-neck loser, and even if you could beat me, I'd never give you a damn thing," she whispered fiercely. She let go of his tie and pushed him away. "And now I'm going to embarrass the crap out of you in front of your King. How's that sound, Kenny?"

Ken, now practically foaming at the mouth in rage, stomped over to the ring and ascended the steps. He didn't- couldn't- even speak.

_Good. Nice and angry, _Aiko thought with a grin. The referee returned her luxury ball. _Very good. _She climbed the steps to what she knew would be a resounding victory.

No retreat, no surrender, no mercy. That was her Mistress's maxim, a maxim Aiko herself had adopted. This trainer was just another hash mark on her personal scoreboard. To hell with the Ace of Spades and his prospective Joker- Aiko was here for herself. When the time came- as undoubtedly it would- she would wipe the Arena floor with Corey Grant.

End Chapter Seven


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

House of Cards

Chapter Eight: Top

Corey was still having a tough time believing it. The battles were just a blur now- one melding into the next, with no real beginning or end, but somehow he'd made it to the top of his flight undefeated. Toru had topped in his own flight, taking just one loss all day. Along with fourteen others, they were on their way to the top sixteen.

Toru clapped his friend on the back enthusiastically. "Awesome. Just…awesome. How did you manage to go undefeated?"

Corey shrugged, still grinning stupidly and looking at the leader board. "I just…you know…kept going from one match to the next."

Toru barked out a laugh. "Whatever you're doing, man, it's working. So… who're you up against?"

Corey looked from the leader board to the pairings list. He was relieved to see that he and Toru were on opposite ends of the web- if they battled each other, it wouldn't be until the final round. "Looks like I'm battling someone named… James Usher."

Toru gave a long whistle. "Damn. Good luck."

"Why?"

"James Usher is the tournament organizer's right-hand guy. He's a great trainer- I've seen him lose, like, a handful of times, and I'm almost sure some of those were thrown matches against the Royals."

"So…you know what his team's like, then?" Corey asked hopefully.

"Kinda. Just be ready for a lot of steel, dark, and some fighting- types. Maybe in combination. If I were you, I'd use Infernape."

"Thanks for the heads-up. Who're you up against?"

"Uhm…oh! A girl. Fumioko Yamanaka. Yikes, look at that record!" It was perfect- not a single loss all day. "Looks like I've got my work cut out for me."

A series of chimes sounded from all around them. A voice came over the loudspeakers. "Attention trainers! We will now break for lunch. To those trainers in the top sixteen, make sure to be back on the Arena floor in no less than one hour. That is all."

Toru took his arm off Corey's shoulder. "Let's go- I know a place we can grab some lunch not far from the stadium."

They turned and came face-to-face with a young woman in the livery of the House of Diamonds. Her armband marked her out as the Knight of Ten. She curtseyed politely. "Good afternoon," she said sweetly. "I am Cidalia Amani, Knight of Ten of the House of Diamonds. My King wishes you take lunch with him in his private box. Oh, ah… beg pardon," she said, looking up, "which of you is mister Grant?"

Corey was dumbstruck, not because of the invitation, but because of the messenger. She was nothing short of gorgeous- olive-toned skin, dark brown hair gathered in a curly mass at the top and back of her head, perfect complexion, and a smile that could melt glaciers, which- unlike the smile worn by her House's Jack- seemed completely genuine. The voice that escaped her full- lipped smile was honey-sweet. Why it ever tried to leave was baffling.

"Ah, he is," Toru said, snapping his companion back to reality. "This is the guy you're looking for, and he'd be happy to join the King of Diamonds." He thumped Corey on the back for emphasis.

Cidalia nodded. "And you are?"

"This is Toru Caruso," Corey said, finding his voice. "He's a friend of mine, and he's in the top sixteen. Would your king be so kind as to have him up for lunch as well?"

Cidalia's smile faltered momentarily. "I'm not at liberty to say, really," she replied, "but if you'll follow me, I'm sure something can be arranged. This way, gentlemen."

Cidalia made her way through the crowd, the two male trainers in tow. From the other direction, Corey could see another, thick-framed young man coming their way. His attire told of an allegiance to the House of Hearts, and his armband marked him as the Knight of Eight. As he drew closer, Corey got a look at his face. His dark hair was cut close to his head, his fumanchu was neatly trimmed, and his brown eyes were locked on Cidalia's.

As they passed, time seemed to slow for a brief moment.

The man's face was a scowling mask of contempt and anger.

Cidalia's was a satisfied grin of triumph.

Time went back to normal and the two Knights passed each other.

As he watched them disappear into the crowds, the Knight of Eight flipped open a BFG. It chirped as it connected.

"My liege? I am sorry. I did not secure the target. The Knight of Ten from the House of Diamonds got here first… Yes, highness. I understand. I will not fail again." He flipped the device shut and exhaled vehemently.

…

Up in his box viewing seat, Harald Godwinston flipped his own BFG shut. "Williams has failed. I'm afraid our friend Mr. Grant won't be dining with us today."

The box was occupied by four other women; two of them, the Knights of Nine and Ten, wore matching looks of distress.

"How unfortunante, my lord!" Mia cried sympathetically.

"An awful happenstance, sire!" Maya chimed in, matching her twin's distress.

The third person- only slightly older than the Knights- snorted. "Come on, Harald, he's just one trainer. Is he even any good?" She sat sideways in a large armchair, legs crossed and hanging languidly over one side.

Godwinson sighed. "Haven't you watched today's tournament at all, Mirabelle? He's gone undefeated…and now he's on his way to the House of Diamonds' box," he whined loudly. Godwinston collapsed on his own chair in a heap of melodrama.

The Knight of Jack stood and sauntered over to the King. She sat on his lap and caressed his face with one hand. "Aw, Harry, you're upset," she cooed. "Want me to go and get your Corey for you?"

Godwinston sniffed in mock-sadness. "Oh, would you, Mirabelle? That would be wonderful. You know, take Mia and Maya with you. He's met them- it would be helpful if you showed up with friendly faces."

"Of course, Harry," Mirabelle cooed. She stood and walked towards the door, snapping her fingers as she went. The Knights of Ten and Nine dutifully followed her out of the box, leaving Godwinston alone with the fourth female inhabitant. Unlike the other three, who had sat on the available chairs, the fourth woman stood, staring out the glass viewport at the arena below.

"Catherine," Godwinston said, the mock-depression gone, "why must you insist on standing at the window? Come, sit with me."

The woman remained silent, still staring out the window, his back to the King of Hearts.

Godwinston frowned. He crossed the room and stood next to the woman. She continued to stare.

"You're the Queen of Hearts," he said, leaning over and whispering in Catherine's ear, "and I am your King. Come sit with me."

He reached around and pulled on her shoulder in an attempt to steer her towards the chairs at the middle of the room, but was stopped by an abrupt and monstrous hissing. A Serperior that hadn't been there a moment before glared at Godwinston, moving its head from side to side rhythmically.

For the first time, the Queen of Hearts took her eyes off the stadium below and locked eyes with Godwinston. "Do not presume to lay your hand on me," she said dangerously.

Godwinston released the Queen of Hearts and recoiled, stumbling back a few steps. He cursed, then straightened and smoothed his suit jacket. "It's been three years. He's not coming back, Catherine," he said hotly, "and you need to accept it. Even if he did, what good would it do you? You know what he thinks happened… and what will happen to Mirabelle if he _finds out_ otherwise. Now put that…that infernal serpent away." Godwinston turned back to his chair and sat down heavily. He made no further attempts to coax her over.

Catherine Chevaleresque, Queen of Hearts, recalled her Serperior and tucked its Luxury Ball away. She turned back to the window and stared out at the stadium.

_Kale, _she thought, _where are you?_

End Chapter Eight

_A/N: Sorry this one took so long- I hit writer's block in the middle of it. I'm also sorry it's so short in comparison to the others, but it seemed like going on after the last line there was illogical. I'll have another up in less than a week. _


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

House of Cards

Chapter Nine: Dealings

"His majesty will be most pleased that you will be joining him for lunch," Cidalia said as she, Corey and Toru walked down a hallway in the Arena's upper levels. The floor was thickly carpeted in a deep burgundy that hushed their footsteps. "He was unsure of my lord the Knight of Jack's decision to invite you so hastily, but seeing you battle today…well, it cannot be said that Tolouse has poor decision-making skills."

"Right. So…um, Cidalia, right?" Corey asked. She half-turned her head and nodded with a smile. "Cidalia. What's your King like?"

"Charles LaForte is a great trainer," she replied. "He has reigned as King of the Royal House of Diamonds for nearly four years. Under his supervision, our noble House has made great financial gains, and is without a doubt the wealthiest of the four Royal Houses. With his direction, we have also recruited many talented trainers, and…"

"Right, I know that," Corey interrupted, "but what's he like as a person?"

Cidalia stopped short, and Toru had to dodge to avoid hitting her. She turned and fixed Corey with a studying stare, then smiled.

"His majesty LaForte is a fair man, even-tempered, and intelligent. He has high standards…standards you have met, thus far. In fact, he's all but ignored the rest of the trainers here today. If not for my lord the Knight of Jack, he wouldn't even be looking at anyone else. Have I answered your question, mister Grant?"

Corey matched her smile. "Yes, thank you. I just didn't want to go in blind- you know, crack a bad joke and ruin your King's opinion of me."

Cidalia turned and started walking again, brushing past Toru. "His majesty LaForte has an excellent sense of humor, Mister Grant, as long as you avoid any juvenile jokes." She rounded the next corner.

Toru turned back to Corey. "What was that about?"

Corey stared after Cidalia. _I'm beginning to think that fake smiles are a skill mastered by everyone in the House of Diamonds, _he thought to himself. "Nothing. Let's catch up to her," he said out loud.

…

They managed to walk right into the middle of an argument.

"I'm not going to ask you again, Cidalia, where is Corey Grant?"

The speaker was a girl with platinum-blonde hair drawn up in a long ponytail. She was flanked by the Knights of Nine and Ten of the House of Hearts, and dressed in the livery of the same House, with one difference; where Mia and Maya's skirts hung just below their knees, the blonde girl's skirt was halfway up her thigh. This, Corey imagined, was to show off her long legs, which were covered in white lace stockings to just above her knees, leaving a band of cream-white skin showing between her stockings and her skirt. Her carmine lips were drawn into a slight scowl, which vanished as she saw Corey and Toru rounded the corner.

"You two!" she called, striding around a slightly-stunned Cidalia. "Which one of you is Corey Grant?"

"Depends," Corey said defiantly, "who's asking?"

The girl stopped short and cocked her head to one side. Clearly she wasn't used to being talked to in such a manner. "I'm asking," she said testily. "I am Mirabelle Chevaleresque, Knight of Jack of the House of Hearts."

Corey nodded. "I see. That being the case, miss, I am Corey Grant. What can I do for you?"

Cidalia tensed, then stepped between Corey and Mirabelle. "Mirabelle, he's already agreed to meet his majesty LaForte and has already met with his majesty Godwinston today. For the last time, let us through or I will make a way through."

Mirabelle fixed Cidalia with an icy stare. "First, watch who you talk to like that. I outrank you," she said, indicating her armband, "so I don't have to answer to you or even accept any of your challenges. Mia and Maya, however, are both more than willing to take you on. Aren't you, ladies?"

"Always, mistress," they answered in unison, each pulling out a pokeball.

Cidalia smirked. "Don't forget who you're dealing with," she warned, a moon ball suddenly in one hand and a dusk ball in the other. "There's a reason I'm the Knight of Ten, and it's not because I'm in bed with my House's king!"

Mirabelle's face contorted in rage. "Bitch!" she shrieked. "Maya! Mia! Take her…"

"…to her House's box," a male voice called from behind the Knights from the House of Hearts. "At least, that's how I _hope _you were going to finish that order."

All six trainers turned or craned their necks to see Toulouse Levesque, Knight of Jack of the House of Diamonds, striding purposefully towards them. His face was fixed at an impassive mask, but there was a harness in his eyes. He walked past the Knights of Ten and Nine like they weren't there. "What is going on here, Cidalia?" he asked, coming to a stop next to Mirabelle.

"Your Knight of Ten insulted me, so I instructed my Knights to battle her. Discipline her at once, Levesque!" Mirabelle cried, stomping her heeled shoe for emphasis.

"I see. Mirabelle, my Knight was behaving most improperly. Cidalia," he said, turning to his subordinate, "I am appalled. This is utterly inexcusable," he said, wagging a finger as if scolding a child. Mirabelle grinned in triumph, her Knights matching the sentiment. Cidalia remained unmoved. "You know that battles are forbidden indoors. Now come along, his majesty LaForte is waiting…"

"_What_!" Mirabelle cried. "Levesque! You heard what she said! You heard the slander, the…"

The Knight of Jack of the House of Diamonds locked stares with the Knight of Jack of the House of Hearts. "The second my Knight speaks out of turn," he said evenly, "I will make sure to reprimand her for it. Until such a time, you have no right to discipline her, nor instruct me on how to do it. If you have a problem with any of this, we can settle it in the _usual_ way."

Mirabelle clenched her jaw and exhaled vehemently through her nose. "No," she said, "I do not think that will be necessary. You are correct, of course. Mia, Maya…we're going. Come along." Mirabelle turned and left, the twin Knights casting scowls over their shoulders at Cidalia, who wore the merest phantom of a grin.

Once the Knights of the House of Hearts were out of earshot and around the corner at the end of the hall, Toulouse let out the breath he'd been holding in. "Cidalia," he said, "you know better than to insult a superior Knight, even if it _is _Mirabelle Chevaleresque."

"I…am sorry, my lord," Mirabelle said, casting her gaze downwards. "I don't know what came over me."

Levesque smiled, and not the false smile Corey had seen him wearing before. "Just don't let it happen again," he said brightly. "Now then…mister Grant! How nice of you to join us. The House of Diamonds' box is right down here. If you would...oh, I'm sorry," he said, at last noticing Toru, "I don't seem to recall your name, mister…?"

"Caruso, sir. Toru Caruso. I'm a friend of Corey's."

"I see. Mister Caruso, the invitation was extended to mister Grant alone. I must ask you to-"

"My lord," Cidalia interrupted, catching Toulouse's arm, "I had hoped to speak to his majesty La Forte about inviting mister Caruso in for lunch. They are friends, after all," she said pointedly.

"Indeed. Very well. Mister Caruso, was it? Yes, Caruso. As I was saying, the House of Diamonds' box is right down the hall, so if you would come with me, I must ask you to wait outside the door while I speak to his majesty LaForte about inviting you in for lunch. I am sure he would be delighted to have you. Now, please come this way," he said, turning and walking down the hall, Cidalia in tow. Toru followed, an euphoric grin spreading across his face.

Corey waited a second before going after them.

…

"I thought you said you had eyes on him."

"I did, until about five minutes ago," he said, fingers hammering on the keyboard to his console furiously.

"Well? What happened?"

Ionann Dia waited a second before answering. "Near as I can guess," he said, "mister Grant has entered the Houses' private corridors. I can't see him there."

"You can't gain access to the cameras?" Alizabeth Moretti asked.

Ionann gave a frustrated sigh. "Well I suppose it would be rather difficult to look through cameras that don't exist," he replied. "The Houses don't want anyone looking at their comings and goings. Apparently that includes me."

"Can you at least figure out where he's gone?" Alizabeth demanded.

"The last time I saw him, he was with the Knight of Ten from the House of Diamonds. More than likely, he's headed to their box."

"Don't you have that room bugged?" Alizabeth asked.

A choked cry arose from the minibar. "Don't use that word!" Giovanni Moretti called from behind a glass of near-spilled pomeg cider.

"My apologies," Alizabeth called to her brother. "Don't you have that room…tapped?" she asked Ionann.

Ionann gave a sharp laugh. "Of course," he said. The hammering resumed.

"Then bring it up. I'd like to listen to what our old friend LaForte has to say," Kale said. He- to say little of the chair he was sitting in, the Abra sleeping on the chair, and the bottle of nomel ale he was drinking from- had not been there a moment ago, and yet no one was surprised to see him. Noticing their lack of surprise, Kale frowned slightly. "Humph. Must be losing my touch," he said, taking another long draught.

"That stuff's not cheap, you know," Ionann said, still working at his in-desk console to bring up the connection to the microphones in the House of Diamonds' box.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing I can afford it," Kale replied nonchalantly. "How's the audio coming?"

Ionann grinned wickedly. "Just about done," he replied.

…

It was really quite extravagant, as doors went.

It was made from fine mahogany, polished to an iridescent sheen. A large brass plaque faced outward from its middle, with a single large red gem cut into a perfect diamond on it. The knob- also polished brass- bore a similar, smaller gem.

"Here we are," Levesque said, laying hold of the knob. "I will go inside and announce you, Mister Grant. Cidalia, you follow him in, and Mister Caruso, you stay here until I announce you as well." With that, he turned the knob and entered. A few seconds passed before it opened again. "Come inside," Levesque said. Corey entered, Cidalia close in tow.

The first thing Corey noticed when he entered was the food covering the long table at the box's center. It was a fare fit for a king, from start to finish- and the king it was meant for sat at the head of the table.

Charles LaForte could not have been more than a few years older than Corey. His dark hair was parted to the left, and- apart from some very impressive sideburns- he was clean shaven. He had his fingers steepled in front of his face. A smile- almost genuine- spread out behind them when Corey walked in. "Mister Grant," he said, standing. "A pleasure. I am Charles LaForte, King of the House of Diamonds, and this is my lovely Queen, Mydia DelMar. Please, come sit with us. We have much to discuss."

The Queen of Diamonds did not speak, but nodded in Corey's direction. She sat, stroking the head of a sleeping Purrloin curled up on her lap.

"If I may be forward for a moment, Majesty," Corey said, taking the seat indicated by the King, "I have a friend outside who wants to meet you."

"And he shall be brought in at once," LaForte said fluidly. "Toulouse, if you would-"

"No, sire, you misunderstand," Corey interrupted. "I don't want him in here yet. I have a favor to ask."

LaForte blinked. He wasn't wrong-footed like this often. "A favor? Ask away."

"My friend- Toru- he's been trying for a long time to get into one of the Houses. He's made the top sixteen in today's tournament, but his opponent is undefeated, and he has one loss. He has a tentative offer from the House of Hearts-" at this, LaForte frowned a bit- "but he might not make it past the next round, and his invitation to that House rests on making the top four."

"I see," LaForte said thoughtfully. "So what are you asking me, exactly?"

"I'm asking you to give him an invitation, regardless of what happens in the next few rounds."

"And why would I do that?" LaForte was frowning now.

"Majesty, I'm new to the Frontier. I've got all of one friend, and I'd like to stick with him. I'd be much more inclined to join a House if he was in it too. He's a good trainer- making it to the top sixteen is impressive to begin with, right? Call it a two-for-one deal. If you invite him an no other House does…" Corey let the comment hang.

LaForte mulled it over a minute. "Toulouse," he said, "what is your impression of this…Toru?"

Toulouse looked at his datapad. "It's like Mister Grant says- one loss, and it was a narrow one. He's been here a few years…seems capable. And, of course, inviting him would make Mister Grant here more inclined to join our House."

LaForte locked eyes with Corey. He stared long and hard for a good minute, considering the offer.

"You sir, are a cutthroat," he said at length. "I like that in a trainer. I'll certainly invite him, the second he gets in here." His smile- the almost-genuine one- was back.

"Ah, about that…please don't invite him just yet. Is there some kind of ceremony or something where invitations get handed out after the tournament?"

"Of course."

"That's perfect. And please don't tell him I asked you to give it to him."

LaForte sat back in his chair. "You ask a lot," he mused.

"I know, but appearances need to be maintained," Corey replied.

Mydia DelMar laughed suddenly. "Charles, if I didn't know any better I'd say this young man was already one of our Knights!"

LaForte smiled and picked up a glass filled with a sweet-smelling drink. "Let's see if we can make that happen. Of course, you'll still have to go through the formality of visiting any other Houses that might invite you," he said. "Appearances, after all. Now, Toulouse, would you please invite this Toru inside? I must meet him, after all the good press mister Grant has given him."

…

Ionann turned off the speakers.

"That was…enlightening." He said at length.

"It was disheartening, is what it was," Giovanni called from the minibar. "This Grant kid's not going anywhere without his buddy, and we only need one more Joker."

"Maybe he could be convinced to join us without his friend," Alizabeth suggested. "Maybe he'll have a falling-out?"

"At the risk of sounding devious," Kale said, "Maybe we need to wait for the right opportunity to present itself."

"Are we even sure that's going to happen?" Ionann wondered out loud.

"He's stood up to a Knight without even knowing who they were. He did it because the Knight was causing a disturbance in a business he hadn't been in for more than ten minutes. And now," Kale said, tapping his index finger on Ionann's desk, "he's only considered joining a House on the grounds that they take his friend too. I'd say he was too good to be true if I hadn't heard him say what he did himself. So I say we wait. He's seen the Houses, this whole Tournament, on the surface alone. Let's wait a while, see if he still likes what he sees once he sees how it works, and why. Like they said," Kale sighed, leaning back and taking a final draught of the ale, "appearances are everything. And they need to be maintained. The Houses don't- can't- keep their own in the dark for long."

End Chapter Nine


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

Sorry it's been such a long hiatus- I had to focus on the tail end of the semester to make one class not be terrible (and I did), then the holidays came around… but here I am again. I still can't guarantee regular updates, but it's not like I'm pulling the story out of my buttocks; I have them all planned out, but I lack the time to sit and write them.

House of Cards

Chapter Ten: Resume

"Thank you again, mister Grant, for joining us," Toulouse said, walking next to Corey. Cidalia walked behind her House's Jack, next to Toru. She'd actually deigned to engage him in conversation a few times during lunch. Toru was still starry-eyed.

"It was a pleasure," Corey replied, "and please compliment his majesty on the quality of the meal."

"His majesty has excellent taste in everything, trainers included," Toulouse replied pointedly. "Ah, here we are," he said, rounding a corner and stopping in front of an elevator door emblazoned with a large red diamond. "Cidalia, would you mind showing our guests to their respective battle areas? I must get back to his majesty."

"Of course, milord," Cidalia replied. Toulouse nodded and went back the way he came, leaving the Knight of Ten, Corey, and Toru waiting for the elevator.

"So," Toru blurted in another attempt at conversation, "have you seen anyone that you think might get an invitation to the House of Diamonds in the top sixteen? Apart from Corey, I mean."

Cidalia smiled. "It's not really my place to say," she replied diplomatically, "but his majesty LaForte has a few trainers in mind." There was a small chime, and the elevator doors slid opened. Cidalia pressed the button for the first floor once they were all inside.

"Now, where are we headed?" she asked.

"I think I'm at the second battle area," Toru said.

"Number seven," Corey responded.

Cidalia frowned. "Well that's a problem," she said. "You're on opposite ends of the stadium. I won't be able to see you both off in time."

Toru hesitated for a moment. "Take Corey," he said. "I know where I need to go, he might need some help."

Cidalia's frown vanished. "Thank you, mister Caruso," she said. "I hope you pull through to the next round. I will be keeping an eye on you," she added pointedly.

"Ah…um…" The elevator reached the lowest floor, and the doors slid open. "Thanks," Toru blurted, and dashed out the door.

Cidalia laughed slightly at the running trainer's discomfort. "Come, take my arm," she said to the remaining one. "I'll show you to your battle area." Her arm in his, Corey left the elevator.

They walked together down a wide corridor. It was reasonably crowded, but a path seemed to open up in front of them wherever they went. "So who are you up against, anyway?" Cidalia asked. "I have to admit, I didn't bother to check the roster."

"Oh, some guy named James Usher," Corey replied.

Cidalia nearly tripped, only managing to stay upright by leaning against Corey.

"You're up against James?" she asked shakily.

"Yeah, have you heard of him?"

Cidalia straightened, ignoring the onlookers who had witnessed her stumble. "Walk with me, and pay close attention," she said, gripping Corey's arm tighter. She almost dragged him along in her haste.

"James Usher is, without a doubt, the most talented trainer who does not belong to one of the Houses. If you can defeat him, there isn't a person in the stadium today who will not sit up and take notice of you."

"Is he really that good?"

"I have had the opportunity to battle him no less than three dozen times since becoming the Knight of Ten."

"How many times have you won?"

"Five. Technically ten, but he threw half of those."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he is the assistant of Ionann Dia."

Corey paused before asking, "Who is Ionann Dia?"

Cidalia came to a dead stop and fixed Corey with an incredulous gaze. "Your naiveté is adorable. Ionann Dia is the Silph Company's liaison to the Houses. He has access to the most advanced resources, training equipment, and the vast wealth of all four Houses. His assistant shares those luxuries."

"So…he's good, but only because he's rich?"

Cidalia barked out a laugh, her pace quickening. "Again with that naiveté. No, James was a powerful trainer in his own right when he became Dia's assistant a little over two years ago. He's only gotten stronger because of it. Anyone who says otherwise suffers from a serious case of jealousy."

She stopped suddenly in front of the entrance to a hallway. Above the hallway, engraved in the wall, was a large numeral seven. "This is you," she said, dragging Corey down the hall. He could hear the roaring crowd getting closer with each step.

Cidalia stopped again, very suddenly. "You need to stop that," Corey began, but Cidalia had suddenly backed him up against the hall's stone wall. She pressed her full, soft lips against his mouth, cupping his head in her hands. The sensation was absolutely electric.

"Win," she said simply as she pulled away. "Win, and take your well-earned place in the House of Diamonds. We- I- will give you anything you ask for." She smiled- the first earnest smile Corey had seen anyone in her House make- and walked away.

…

She did not look back. There was no need. She knew he was watching her leave. As with all the others, he'd fight with a purpose, with a fire in him. She knew he wanted her now, and that would drive him.

Her hand had been played perfectly, she thought with a lascivious grin.

…

On the arena floor, James Usher stood waiting on his appointed stage. He fiddled absently with the chain on his pocket watch, staring at the door his opponent should be exiting right about…

Yes. There he was. Not the most punctual opponent, but definitely one worth waiting for, if his performance that day was any indication.

…

"All right, mister Usher, approach the center of the ring," the judge said.

James strode towards the middle of the ring as his opponent climbed the steps. He wouldn't stop looking over his shoulder for some reason. That wouldn't do.

"Corey? Corey Grant?" James called. His opponent turned. "Good. Come here, please. The rules say we have to shake hands and greet each other before the match."

Corey walked up to James and extended his hand. James took it with a vigorous shake and a smile.

"Listen," he said, leaning forward a bit and clasping his free hand over Corey's, "whatever's got your attention behind you, forget about it. I've been waiting all day for a challenge, and I think you're going to give it to me, but not if you're distracted. Got it?"

Corey stared for a moment, then grinned. "Glad to hear you say that, James Usher," he replied. "I heard you were in the habit of throwing matches to certain members of certain Houses. I'm not an idiot, I understand diplomacy and business and that junk," he replied, seeing the look on James' face, "but this is different, right? Just you, me, and a battle. No commitments. I'm not holding back if you're not."

"I'm surely not."

"Great, let's get started," Corey said, reaching for his belt.

"Not yet, sir," the judge called, walking over to the trainers. "We have to wait for everyone to be in position. Then you can release your pokemon. It's the same as the preliminary rounds- one on one, no substitutions. A knockout or ring out makes a win. We clear on the rules?"

Corey nodded. "Who are we waiting for anyway?" he asked.

The judge consulted an electronic data pad he was carrying. "It looks like Stage 2."

Corey laughed a bit. "You know who it is?" James asked.

"Yeah, he's a friend of mine. He'll be there in a second; I just left him a few minutes ago. Hope he does alright…"

…

Toru dashed down the hallway to Stage 2. He'd had to stop and use the bathroom before the round started, and was now praying it didn't make him late.

"Sorry, sorry," he called, bursting onto the arena floor. He flew towards the stage and dashed up the steps. His foot caught on the top one, and he flew over onto his front.

Groaning and forcing himself to his feet, Toru saw his opponent. It was definitely the same girl from outside the Hippowdon that morning- same clothes, same impossible-shade-of-red hair, same disgusted, intolerant stare.

"If you're all right," the judge said, "please get up and introduce yourself to your opponent. You almost lost to time there," he said, turning back to his position on the stage's sidelines.

Toru forced himself to his feet and walked towards the very pretty girl he'd just successfully made an ass of himself in front of. "Uh, hello," he said. "I'm Toru Caruso. You are?"

"Very annoyed," she replied, not reaching for his proffered hand.

"Uh…right. Yeah, sorry about being late. Wouldn't wanna get this far and lose to a clock, would I?"

"No," the girl said, turning. "Now you get to lose to me."

…

High above the arena floor, sitting in Ionann's office box, the four Aces sat, watching the arena floor.

The klaxon sounded. The top rounds began.

End Chapter Ten

A/N: So sorry this took forever- classes and all that. Next one will be out before the end of the month.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

House of Cards

Chapter Eleven: Upset

"So who's placing bets?"

"Not you, Gio, you're broke."

"Not true, sister dearest. Kale was nice enough to drop me a roll this morning," he said, producing the wad of bills from his pocket. "So who's in?" he asked, a wolfish grin splitting his face.

There was quiet for a moment. "I'll bet," Kale said at length. "Five hundred on Corey Grant. You up for it, Ionann?"

Ionann looked over his shoulder at Kale, who was grinning broadly. "Seems like a waste," he said dismissively.

"Ionann, I know you've got the money. Hell, you probably make that much in an hour. But you're bored just taking that money. I remember you, the way you were-"

"Damn it, Kale, don't egg him on," Alizabeth scolded. "Ionann's a respected businessman. He wouldn't just gamble away his money wantonly."

"Two thousand," Ionann said, still gazing out the window.

Alizabeth opened her mouth, aghast, to speak, then promptly closed it and shook her head.

"I'll take that bet," Kale said, standing. "What's with the increase in the bet though?" he asked, crossing to the window.

Ionann smiled. "Your man hasn't shown up yet," he replied. "If he doesn't, I win by default. If he does, my Joker will beat him. It's a safe bet, one way or the other."

Kale gawked, then dashed over to the window next to Ionann. "You incredible arse," he muttered.

"You took the bet," Ionann replied, sipping from his balloon. He pulled out his pocket chronometer to check the time.

"So I did. But it doesn't seem like I have anything to worry about," Kale said, relief unhidden. "He's just arrived." Kale returned to his seat and sat down heavily.

"Indeed. And with sixty-three seconds to spare," Ionann remarked. He turned and opened a panel on his desk, revealing a series of buttons. Still staring at his chron, he sat and placed a finger on a small blue button.

"Ten seconds," he said. "Five…four…three…two…one."

High above the arena floor, sitting in Ionann's office box, the four Aces sat, watching the arena floor.

The klaxon sounded. The top rounds began.

…

"Let's go, Infernape!" Corey shouted, tossing his ball into the air. A flash of light later, his flame-crowned simian stood on the platform, glaring at James.

At the same moment, usher threw his own ball skyward, releasing a bipedal bird. It stood almost as high as its trainer, its head crowned in a bright yellow trident.

It was an Empoleon.

"Infernape, don't get too close to it! Try Flamethrower!" Corey knew the attack wouldn't do a ton of damage, but knew that most Empoleon were much stronger short-range than at a distance. Even as he thought it, a jet of crimson fire shot from Infernape's mouth.

"Counter it, Empoleon! Water Pulse!" An undulating torrent of water sprang from Empoleon's beak, meeting Infernape's fire in mid-air and nullifying it.

"Try again!" Corey shouted. Another gout of flame.

"Counter!" James commanded. Another attack nullified.

"Enough playing around! Empoleon, use Hydro Cannon!"

Empoleon's beak opened once again and a cold glow shone from inside. There was a sudden sucking sound, like an immense vacuum cleaner, and then a blast of blue light emanated from its mouth.

"Try to counter it, Infernape! Fire Blast!" Infernape obeyed, launching a larger blast of fire from its own mouth.

The blasts struck again.

…

Across the arena, Toru was giving it his all. "Toxicroak! Poison Jab again!" The last three such blows had barely scathed his opponent's Milotic. Nevertheless, Toru's amphibious companion lunged again, knuckle-claws glowing with a sick purple light.

Milotic did as it had done the previous three times; it swerved out of harm's way quickly, then repelled Toxicroak with a sweep of its tail. The outsized toad was sent flying, landing nimbly on its feet from exactly where it started, injured only slightly.

Milotic's trainer hadn't even been giving it commands. She'd just been standing there, staring at her opponent, the ghost of a grin forming at the corner of her mouth. It was the arrogant sort of grin a particularly cruel person got watching a Caterpie repeatedly knock its head against a pane of glass, trying to get through.

That was how she viewed him. An insect. _She's toying with me_, Toru thought. Whoever this girl was, she wasn't taking him seriously.

_Time to change that_. "Toxicroak, change of plans. Hit it with Focus Blast!"

Whatever smile the young woman wore turned to…something else. She wasn't screwing around anymore. "Milotic, get ready," she said levelly.

Toxicroak's fingers began to glow, not with the telltale violet of a poison attack, but with a golden light. Bringing its hands together, it concentrated a huge amount of power into a glowing sphere of energy. Crying out suddenly, it hurled the sphere at Milotic.

Milotic didn't dodge or even flinch. It barely seemed to move as the blast struck.

Because it didn't hit Milotic. It struck a barrier immediately in front of Mioltic- more than likely, a Light Screen- and exploded, leaving the sea serpent unscathed.

"That was a good try," Milotic's trainer called. She had gone back to being condescending.

"If you thought that one was good, wait for the next one," Toru snarled, his blood rising. "Toxicroak, hit it again!" Obediently, Toxicroak started to focus its energy into its hands.

"Zen Headbutt," the girl said simply.

Faster than should have been possible for a creature of its size, Milotic lunged at Toxicroak, the horn on its head shining blue-white. It struck before Toxicroak could unleash its attack, sending it flying out of the ring and onto the arena floor.

It bounced once, then didn't move.

"Ring out, and knock out," the referee called. "Milotic wins!"

…

"Your joker won," Giovanni remarked simply to his sister.

"As expected," Alizabeth replied.

"What about yours?" Giovanni asked Ionann.

"Don't worry about James. His match is about to end," Ionann said, smiling slightly.

Kale couldn't argue. He exhaled heavily.

…

"Hydro Cannon again," James said. Empoleon let loose another volley of azure energy.

Infernape barely managed to dodge it, rolling across the platform and only just keeping away from the edge.

Corey was at a loss. Empoleon was firing its attacks with stunning rapidity, barely letting Infernape catch its bearings in between blasts.

_No, dammit, don't freeze up, _he mentally chastised himself. _If the distance game doesn't work, go for broke._

"Infernape, we're changing tactics. Get in close as you can!" Infernape sprang to its feet with a shout, and then charged Empoleon, using all four limbs to propel itself forward.

"Empoleon, Hydro Cannon, and hit it this time!" James commanded. Empoleon unleashed another blast of energy. This one was headed directly at Infernape, and the monkey was going too fast to change direction.

"Flare Blitz!" Corey called. Just before the blast struck Infernape, it vaulted into the air, over the match-ending beam. Instead, it harmlessly smacked the platform underneath Infernape.

"Empoleon, get ready! Aerial Ace!" The edges of Empoleon's fins glowed, and it stood ready to meet the incoming simian.

Infernape, meanwhile, had cloaked itself in fire. It flew, spread- eagle, at Empoleon, screaming as it went. Empoleon brought its forelimbs up to attack, and there was another titanic clash as the two combatants strained against each other to score a hit.

"Empoleon, now, while it's close! Hydro Cannon!" Empoleon loosed yet another blast. This one engulfed Infernape, flame bubble and all. The heat-cold contact sent up a massive steam cloud, which engulfed the battling pokemon.

…

"Holy crap, what is that?" Alejandra Usaco wondered aloud at the cloud that seemed to form at ground level.

"Ah, miss Guilden?" the referee politely called. "Hello? Miss? MISS GUILDEN?"

"Hm? Oh, right. What's going on? Hey, where's my opponent?"

"Um… the match ended five minutes ago. Please withdraw your Medicham and step off the platform."

"Oh…right. Hey, Medicham!" Alejandra called to her pokemon, "Did we win?"

Medicham, sitting cross-legged and semi-meditating in the middle of the platform, flashed a thumbs-up.

"Great job! Come on back," she said, recalling Medicham into its Great Ball.

"Hey, ref! Whose ring is that?" she asked, pointing at the now-dissipating steam cloud.

"I believe that's the ring where James Usher is battling this year's odds-on favorite, Corey Grant. You'll be battling the winner of that match," the referee replied, stepping off the platform. He diplomatically gestured for her to follow suit.

_So…Grant. Don't be mad, James, but I'm not sure who I want to win, _she thought.

…

When the fog lifted, both pokemon were barely standing.

Empoleon had weathered the sudden assault badly- it looked like it would topple over if it moved. Infernape wasn't much better; covered in burn marks and with one eye swollen shut, it seemed like standing was a chore.

But it was in range.

"Now, Infernape! Close Combat!"

Summoning energy from reserves that didn't seem like they should even exist, Infernape threw itself at Empoleon wholesale, arms cocked back to throw match-ending punches.

"Empoleon, quick! Water Pulse!"

But Infernape was already in motion, and far too quick. It had fought numerous tank-style water-types before, and knew exactly how to beat this one, if its fatigue didn't win out in the next five seconds.

The first blow connected just under Empoleon's jaw, closing it tight and stopping its attack.

The second went into its midsection, folding it like an accordion.

The third was Infernape's knee connecting with Empoleon's head.

That did it. Empoleon toppled over backwards, unconscious.

"Knock out!" the referee called. "Corey Grant wins!"

As if waiting for the ref's decision, Infernape fell on its front, smiling. It was unconscious before it even hit the floor.

…

"Pay up," Kale said.

End Chapter Eleven


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

House of Cards

Chapter Twelve: Strike

"Cidalia, I do believe our little prospect only just defeated James Usher."

"I see that, highness," Cidalia replied shakily. "He was…most…um…"

"…proficient?" the Knight of Jack offered. "He's proving more and more to be exactly what the House of Diamonds is looking for."

"Then I am glad you gave him an invitation," LaForte said, sipping from a crystal tumbler full of pale blue liquor. "I wonder how far he'll get?"

"As far as he likes, I imagine," Cidalia said airily.

The Queen of Diamonds turned and looked at her Knight. "Cidalia, I am surprised! I didn't know you grew so attached to your toys," she chided playfully.

Cidalia blushed. "Apologies, milady. I only meant that he could go all the way to the finals today. That is what you meant, isn't it, milord?" she asked LaForte.

"Indeed it was. I only wonder what _you _meant, Cidalia." Her blush deepened.

"Charles, you tease her too ruthlessly," Mydia scolded. She plucked a hondew berry tart off the platter resting next to her and popped the pastry into her mouth whole. It was clear from the noises she made that she enjoyed it.

"I must ask you to stop," she said through a mouth half-full of tart, "making sport of my dear Cidalia. She is my knight, and that is a privilege only I may enjoy."

"Very well," LaForte said, turning back to the window. "On the note of sport, I'm glad to see our mister Grant is a good one. See, Cidalia, he's no doubt thanking Usher for the match now."

Cidalia looked out the window. The only ones still in the arena, apart from a few lingering referees, were Corey and James Usher, standing together at the center of their platform.

…

"That was exactly what I was looking for." James said, shaking Corey's hand. "Thank you. I haven't fought a trainer like you in a long time."

"No, it's me that should be thanking you," Corey replied. "And…ah…about what I said before the match…"

James smiled and shook his head. "It's nothing," he said dismissively. "I don't hold any illusions about my job or what it means I have to do on occasion. That's actually why I enter events like this," he said, clapping Corey across the shoulders and directing him towards the exit. "I don't have to hold back."

"I understand that," Corey said. "Your Empoleon is something else. You must've trained a lot to get it to be so strong."

"Sure did," James said, with an obvious note of pride in his voice. "We've been together a long time. You must have been with Infernape a long time, too."

"Since day one, but that's how it usually goes." As they made their way down the corridor, Corey added, "I'd like to battle you again sometime under less official circumstances."

"I was thinking the same. Right now, though, I have to go see my boss. I promised I'd get back to him as soon as I was done, and I hate to say it, but you winning means the fun's over a little in advance."

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to spoil the day for you."

"Not at all. With any luck he'll just have me 'supervise' the rest of the tournament from his box. Do me a favor," James said as they reached the interior passage, "keep winning. I don't want to lose to you and then have you crap out to someone else."

Corey laughed. "Wouldn't dream of it, mister Usher."

"Please, I think we're on a first name-basis now. I'm James."

"Right, okay. James. I look forward to a rematch."

"Same here, Corey."

Corey shook James' hand once more, then turned and walked toward Stage 2. He hadn't seen the results of Toru's match.

…

Toru against the wall, elbows resting on bent knees, face in his hands. Another year gone. Another chance missed. The girl, whoever she was, had tossed him aside like he was nothing, and left without a single word.

Right then, that's exactly what he felt like.

It wasn't even that she'd made him feel that way- it was that she'd forced him to face the fact that it was true. Three years, and this was as far as he'd ever gotten. It seemed like it was as far as he'd ever get.

_Why do I keep beating my head against this wall, _he thought. _Why do I try? I'm not getting any closer to joining a House. At this point I'd even take Clubs. At least there's _some_ prestige in that._

He heard footsteps coming towards him. Toru stood quickly and brushed off the seat of his pants.

It was Corey.

"Hey," he called. His voice had the telltale tremble of someone who'd just been crying. _Damn it, man up! _he yelled inwardly. "Hey man! How'd you do?"

"Great! It was a close match, but I won." Corey replied. "You were right about James. He's a hell of a trainer."

Toru blinked. "You won? That...that's fantastic!" he cried. "I can't wait to see your next match!"

Corey paused. "Didn't you win?" he asked.

"Oh…nah, she got me good. But, hey, maybe you'll beat her today!"

"Yeah," Corey said halfheartedly. "Hey, man, that sucks."

Toru waved his hand in front of his face. "It's nothing. I got farther than I ever have this year. Maybe I'll get an invitation just for getting this far."

Corey nodded. "I'm sure you will," he said knowingly.

"Yeah…oh, you'll never guess who my opponent was. You remember that cute redhead outside the Hospitable Hippowdon?"

"That was her?"

"Yeah man! Maybe you'll get her number if you beat her," Toru said pointedly. He nudged Corey in the ribs with his elbow, an 'if-you-know-what-I-mean' look on his face.

Corey chuckled. "Yeah, maybe. I'll definitely try," he said. "Anyway, I gotta get going. Next round should start pretty soon, right?"

"Probably, and I'm gonna want a good seat. They let the crowds in once top eight's decided, so you'll be performing for a crowd."

"I'll have to give them a show, then," Corey said, raising his fist.

Toru bumped his own against it. "Helluva show," he said.

…

There was a knock at the door. "Enter," Ionann called.

James Usher entered his boss' office. "Hello, mister Dia," he said. "Hello, Aces," he added.

"You have cost me two thousand credits." Ionann said flatly. He was still staring out the window. Giovanni snickered.

"I…um…you bet on me?" James asked, wrong-footed.

"Two. Thousand." Ionann repeated.

"I'm…sorry, mister Dia."

"You ought to be," Ionann said, finally turning in his seat and looking at James over his glasses. "It's coming out of your salary."

James sighed. "Yes, mister Dia."

"Ah, Ionann, you're too hard on him," a heavyset man with an Abra on his shoulder said, thumbing through a wad of large-denomination bills.

"I told him not to hold back," Ionann said, turning to the suddenly-richer man.

"I didn't," James said flatly.

All eyes turned towards him. "You were going all-out?" Ionann asked. There was a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Of course," James replied. "Corey Grant is a fine trainer. He'll be an enormous asset to our endeavors, if the Houses don't snap him up."

"That's a pretty big 'if,'" Giovanni said. "We have to take into account that this kid has nothing against the Houses."

"What we have to do," Alizabeth said, "is give him his own time. Take it one step at a time- he's up against your Joker next, I believe."

"Is he? Good. I'll take up your bet, Kale. Does it still stand at two thousand?"

"Three hundred, Gio. That's half of what I gave you, it's what you can afford to pay if you lose," Kale replied, pouring himself another drink from Ionann's bar. "We've been over this. You need to keep that gambling in check."

"He's not the only one with a vice," Alizabeth said pointedly. Kale looked at the half-full tumbler in his hand.

"Fair point, Liz," he replied. He put down the glass and restoppered the bottle. "I'll only have half this time," Kale said mockingly, sitting back down. He'd gone back to the private room Ionann had prepared and pilfered the chair.

Alizabeth scoffed, but said no more. Many had been the night she and Kale had fought back and forth about his habit. They never ended well, and she wasn't prepared to start another one today.

Neither was Kale, apparently. "Well, it's about time, so Ionann, if you'd start the tournament?"

Ionann swiveled his chair around and reopened the panel. "The grounds crew just finished, as a matter of fact," he replied. "Give it a couple more minutes. We'll want to get the crowds in for this."

…

Corey re-entered the arena from another corridor. The eight stages had been condensed to four- it looked like they'd simply been pushed together to form larger platforms. A crew of two dozen men and half as many Mammoswine were exiting the arena on the far side- no doubt that was how it was accomplished, Corey thought.

The crowds were already starting to file in. It was still early afternoon, but it looked like the stadium would be filled to capacity. Apparently the work day would end earlier today just on account of the matches.

_No, _he thought, _concentrate. _His next opponent's name was Hanna Guilden, and she was supposed to be at Stage 4. She'd done as fantastically as him that day- no losses, and now she was in the top eight. That made her a dangerous opponent.

Even though she definitely didn't look like it.

Even from a distance, Corey could see she was slightly shorter than him. She wore a dirty gray tank top, a set of blue coveralls tied around her middle by the sleeves, and worn black boots. Her suntanned skin was almost as dark as her frizzy, coffee-colored hair. She was sitting- just sitting- and staring at the sky, as if nothing else was going on around her.

"Hello?" Corey called, stopping at the edge of the platform.

The young woman snapped back to reality. "Oh, hey. Who are you?" she asked.

"My name's Corey. I'm your opponent in the next round," he replied.

"Oh, yeah. I heard about you," she said. She rolled on her back, drew her knees to her chest, then sprang up, landing on her feet.

It would've been graceful, if she hadn't topped over backwards immediately and landed on her bottom.

"Ow," she said simply. "Haven't quite got that trick down. Are we starting now?" she asked.

Corey looked around. The referees were only just starting to file into the arena, and less than half of the competitors were at their stations.

"I don't think so," he said, unsure of what to make of his opponent. How had such a space-case made it this far?

"Huh," she said simply. "Well, anyway, I'm Al- uh, Hannah. Hanna…Guilden," she said, as if just remembering her own name. She stuck out one hand towards Corey. Her hand was covered in old axle-grease stains.

Corey shook her hand. "Corey Grant. Nice to meet you," he said.

"Yup, same here," the girl said with a grin.

"Um, if you don't mind my asking, what were you looking at before?" Corey asked.

Hannah looked up at the sky again. "Fury's being a pest again. He won't come down."

"Who's Fury?" Corey asked, looking up.

A shape, a deep blue blur, dropped out of the sky like a comet, then pulled out at the last minute. It swooped around Hannah and Corey, then turned over the growing crowd, drawing gasps and applause.

It was a Swellow, and a fast one. Hannah put her thumb and forefinger in her mouth and blew a shrill whistle. The Swellow banked to its left and then swooped over to Stage 4. It slowed its descent, then landed next to Hannah.

"Fury, I told you we were battling today," Hannah scolded. The Swellow pecked at the area of feathers under its wing, seemingly uninterested.

"Fury's a good boy," Hanna said. "He just acts like an asshole because he loves me." The Swellow turned and gave a sharp cry in Corey's direction, then went back to preening itself.

"Are you…using Fury in the next match?" Corey asked.

"Nope, the next one. I just figured I'd let him stretch," Hannah replied. "He hates staying in his ball all day long."

Corey stared in confused disbelief. "So…you think you're going to win?"

Hannah turned back to him with an astounding innocence in her eyes. "Doesn't everyone?" she asked. She stroked Fury's head absentmindedly. The large bird sat down, its eyes closing contentedly.

Corey was about to speak again when Hannah interrupted him. "Look, I heard about you. You're the guy who beat someone-or-other, and it was real impressive and all, but I don't know them. I barely know you. If you think I'm going to be unnerved by anything else you did today, or yesterday, or whenever, you're in for a big surprise. This is just another match, and nothing about you matters to me except what you do in the next ten minutes. It should be the same for you. Now, was there something you wanted to say?"

Corey paused. "Just that I'm glad we're on the same page," he said.

Hannah smiled toothily. One of her back teeth was missing. "Good," she said. "Alright, Fury, time to go back in the ball," she said, pulling out a pokeball. With what seemed like feigned reluctance, Fury disappeared in a flash of red light.

"Looks like we're gonna start soon," Hannah said. "You ready?"

Corey looked at her and smiled. "You bet," he said.

End Chapter Twelve


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I don't own anything related to Pokemon. Any similarities between characters in this story and other persons, living, dead, or fictional is entirely coincidental.

Also, if you've not yet heard of this wonderfully-talented person, DarkWater9 of is doing a four-part commission piece on the Aces…also, her crochet Pokemon are pretty damn cute, too. You should definitely check her out at .

House of Cards

Chapter Thirteen: Shift

Toru nearly lost his fried dough in the press of bodies moving into the seating area. Even though the gates had opened to the public mere minutes before, he had no doubt that the better seats in the front would already be taken.

Emerging from the corridor that connected the outer ring of concession stands to the seating area, he saw he was right. He gave a resigned sigh and looked toward the nosebleed section.

"Oy! Toru! Over 'ere!" a familiar voice called. Toru turned to see Phil waving his meaty arms like he was trying to land a jet and grinning five miles wide. Toru smiled and waved back, then made a beeline for the immense hotel owner.

"Thanks, Phil. How'd you get such great seats?" he asked, sitting in the vacant spot next to Phil.

"Got here early. They close the gates after you trainers get in, but they don't stop people from camping outside- actually, they encourage it. After that it's just a question of who's willing to wait for a seat for two hours without bathroom breaks."

Toru nodded. "Well thanks again."

"Not a problem. So, how far'd you get this year?"

"Top sixteen. Probably going to miss out on invitations again."

"Prob'ly just as well," Phil said. He produced a brown paper bag of sitrus berries, peeled one, and took a bite out of it. The juice dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it messily on his shirt sleeve. "So where's our new friend Corey?"

Toru smiled. "Down on the arena floor. I think that's him at the eighth platform," Toru replied, pointing.

Phil shielded his eyes from the glare with one broad hand. "I'll be blasted, it _is_ him!" he cried, slapping his knee. "Well this is terrible, we can't see him from here. Come on, Toru, we're moving." Phil stood and made his way back into the press of bodies. "One side, one side," he bellowed, cutting a swath through the crowd. He was a good head and a half taller than most people and twice as broad; it almost looked like he was making his way through very tall, person-shaped grass. Toru quickly stood and followed in the immense man's wake. As they moved from one end of the stadium to the other, massive pistons and rotors concealed in the arena floor's walls lifted the duraglass plates into place.

Duraglass was a recent invention of the Silph Corporation's world-famous research and development division. Where other companies- notably, Devon and Poketch- focused on creating trainer-friendly (though mostly useless) gadgets in recent years, Silph had started working on bigger and, as far as Toru was concerned, better things. Duraglass was miraculous, as transparent surfaces went; lightweight, heat, scratch, shock, and crack- resistant, nonconductive, and able to sustain a kinetic force up to several thousand joules. Put simply, it was nearly indestructible, and with hardly any sacrifice to one's view. The only thing that marked duraglass from regular window glass was the slight brownish tint that naturally came with the materials used to make it- a list of materials whose exact measurements and nature were Silph's second most closely-guarded secret. While it did in fact make for terrible windows, duraglass was ideal for protecting a large viewing audience from a rogue Fire Blast or Shock Wave. As such, it was used in stadiums the world over, and the fact that Silph was the sole purveyor of the material meant that anyone associated with the company was obscenely wealthy.

"Come on, boy, we don't want to miss the tournament!" Phil called over his shoulder.

Toru muttered a few apologies as he passed some of the more upset people he passed. Finally, Phil turned and found a spot large enough for two on the benches. He settled his bulk on the vacant seat, and Toru sat next to him. "Who's he up against?" he asked Phil.

Phil pulled a small leaflet listing the top eight matches from his pocket. "Looks like her name's Hannah Guilden." He smiled knowingly. Toru pulled his BFG out and punched in the girl's name. Next to the headshot of her that came up, there was a list of her known pokemon, but so far all that was listed were a Medicham and a Swellow. More would come up as she used them, but having only two listed meant…

"She's gotten this far using only those two pokemon?" Toru asked incredulously. "That…that's insane. She's essentially been fighting with a handicap this whole time. Why would someone do that?"

Phil shrugged. "Maybe," he said through another sitrus berry, "she's been doing it on purpose. You're stuck using the same three-pokemon cell all through the prelims, right? Maybe she held off on one for a match she knew would be tougher."

"But all through the prelims? Even the first round of the tops? I still don't get it."

_Maybe she was waiting for him, _Phil thought. "Well it doesn't matter," he said. "We'll find out if she's using her third in a minute."

…

"Antony, who is that…urchin…about to battle mister Grant?" Merovech asked disdainfully.

Antony consulted the flyer in his meaty paw. "Hannah Guilden, sir," he replied. "Undefeated today, and using only two members of her team."

"Just two?"

"Just two, miss."

"Interesting. I'm inviting her, Merovech, if you're not."

"I won't get in your way, but you might have to fight Godwinston for her, Morgan."

"Oh, he's got enough little trollops to keep him happy. Besides, she's not quite his type."

"The pretty type?"

"The strong type, Merovech."

"Ah. Indeed."

Outside, the klaxons blared, indicating the start of the top eight round.

"Let's see how strong she is."

…

"Now's the time, Lucario!" Hannah called, tossing a pokeball over her head. A three-foot canine creature burst forth and silently assumed an attack stance.

"Go, Carracosta" Corey called, tossing his ball over the platform. In a burst of blue light, a bipedal sea turtle stomped and bellowed a challenge at its foe.

"Lucario! Hit it with Aura Sphere!" Hannah cried, pointing at Carracosta. Lucario waved a paw in front of itself, as if swatting a fly. That simple motion sent a blob of blue energy flying at its opponent.

Carracosta didn't even flinch at the attack. Using one of its massive flippers, it swatted the attack over its shoulder. The ball sparked off the duraglass plate behind it and made a sound like a temple gong. Spectators behind the protective screen cried out in surprise, then cheered wildly.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to do better than that," Corey said. Carracosta bellowed in agreement.

"Fair point," Hannah returned. "Lucario, do better," she ordered tersely. Lucario nodded, then placed both paws in front of itself, as if in prayer. As it pulled its paws apart, a new blue sphere formed and grew.

"Carracosta, don't let it fire that off! Hit it with Water Pulse!" A jet of water issued from Carracosta's open maw.

Lucario let the growing orb fly. It met the vicious stream of water head-on, driving it aside and back. Carracosta tried to intensify the blast and engulf the attack, but the orb was too large and too fast. It struck Carracosta directly in the face and sent it reeling, struggling to stay on its feet.

"That better?" Hannah asked.

"I dunno," Corey replied. "What do you think, Carracosta? Can you handle it?" Carracosta steadied itself, then let out another thunderous cry. "Good. Water Pulse!"

Again, a pulsing jet of water left Carracosta's mouth. This time, Lucario dodged, then launched itself at Carracosta. It threw a series of punches and kicks at its foe, most of which Carracosta blocked. The few that connected drove the ancient reptile back, nearly to the bright red ring-out line surrounding the platform. Carracosta found a slim opening, and slapped its opponent back with a massive flipper. Lucario took the attack straight on its chest and went flying, turned in midair and landed on its feet. It launched another blue orb at Carracosta, which the turtle summarily deflected as it had the first.

It was a tough match, and the crowd was absolutely loving it.

Corey suddenly realized that Lucario had just attacked without a command. Stealing a brief glance away from Lucario, he saw that his opponent was absently staring at the other matches. In fact, her back was almost completely to him- she wasn't even paying attention to the match at hand.

"Hey!" he called. "Are we still battling or what?"

Hannah turned sharply. "Are we?" she asked. It wasn't sarcastic- she seemed surprised that she was in a battle at all. It was a perturbation Lucario did not share, its steely gaze totally focused on its opponent.

"Uhm...yes. We are."

"Right, sorry. Lucario, how are you doing?" Lucario waved its paw in a 'so-so' gesture, not taking its eyes off Carracosta. "Good. Whatever you were just doing, do it again, but faster this time. Go!"

"Carracosta, Protect!" Corey shouted. Carracosta raised its flippers in defense, and Lucario's physical blows rolled harmlessly off as the turtle somehow managed to keep pace with its foe.

But Corey could tell that Lucario was winning. He had to come up with a plan. Protect was a stopgap, a desperation move, and it wouldn't work forever. Carracosta slapped Lucario back again. Lucario regrouped, then fired another Aura Sphere. Carracosta barely slapped it aside this time. Hannah wasn't paying attention again, at least not to them.

Then, something clicked.

"Carracosta, you remember Maylene?" Corey asked. Carracosta nodded slightly. "Good. Do that thing again, if you can." Carracosta nodded more intently this time, then braced itself.

Lucario- still apparently acting autonomously- took a flying leap at its opponent, this time going for the win. Carracosta bellowed, moving forward, into its opponent, both arms glowing vermillion. Instead of protecting itself, Carracosta went toe-to-toe with its opponent. Lucario was faster, but Carracosta was much stronger. Paw and paddle swung, deflected, returned, and addressed. The cacophony of blows was enough to draw Hannah's attention again.

Just in time for Carracosta to get a hit in edgewise.

Corey had recognized Lucario's attack pattern the second time around- Close Combat, followed by Aura Sphere. He'd seen it in a similar battle against a Sinnoh gym leader a year earlier, against the same type of pokemon. The leader, Maylene, had sacrificed her defensive strategy for all-out offense, which left her Lucario open when Carracosta had fought to end the match.

Carracosta's right flipper connected with Lucario's midsection, folding it sideways. The blow fouled Lucario's rhythm, and the second successive blow connected over its opposite shoulder. Lucario bent, sinking to one knee. Carracosta's third strike came down over Lucario's head.

The match would have ended if Lucario had not been covering its head with both paws. Arms crossed, it pushed the blow back, then readied itself for a punch.

Carrcosta, who had anticipated the move, opened its mouth. A colossal stream of water gushed out, completely enveloping Lucario. Lucario held for a moment, then was pushed back by the force of the point-blank attack. Instead of going airborne, Lucario rolled backwards, coming to a stop on one knee. It raised its paw, preparing to readdress its foe as it had before.

But Carracosta was already upon it with Aqua Jet.

The kinetic force alone was immense. The antediluvian sea turtle far outweighed its opponent, and the fact that Lucario's defenses weren't back up after so many attempts at close combat meant Carracosta's attack met its foe with more than double the usual amount of force.

Lucario went flying again. This time, it would not regroup.

"Knock out!" the referee cried. "Corey Grant wins!"

...

Up in Ionnan's office, Kale clapped his hands. "Fantastic," he said, "just fantastic. Kid's got a great team there."

Gio sighed. "Yeah, it was pretty good." He stood and stretched. "Well, it was just about time I was hitting the road..."

"Now hold on there, Gio," Ionnan said. "Don't you owe Kale a bit of money? Some sort of bet, I recall?"

Gio glanced at Kale. "Ah, right. What was it, thirty?"

"Three hundred," Ionnan corrected.

Kale waved his hand absently. "Ah, you can owe it to me. Better than cheating me out of it."

Gio smiled. "Thanks. I'll go collect my Joker. We'll probably finish watching this from Finnegan's place."

Kale turned and looked at Gio. "You'll watch it from here. She can sit in the stands."

Gio frowned. "Aw, why not?"

"Because I know what you do at Finny's," Kale replied.

"Oh? And what do I do at Finny's, exactly?" Gio asked.

"You lose. Often," Alizabeth chimed in.

"Not today!" Gio replied proudly. "I'm going to put this," he said, brandishing his wad of bills, "on Corey Grant. He seems like a safe bet."

Alizabeth frowned. "I hardly think-"

"That sounds like a good idea, Gio. Here, take a thousand more. And Abra, he'll get you there faster. Put it all on Corey to win everything. The money, not Abra."

Gio laughed as Abra hopped onto his shoulder with a somewhat larger lump of bills in its hand. "Alright, thanks. See you in a few," he said before vanishing.

Alizabeth scowled at Kale. "Don't encourage him!" she said shrilly. "Gambling's a bad habit, and Finnegan's a bad person! If anything happens to Gio..."

"Then Abra can get him out quickly. You assume I haven't thought of this. That, or you're just mad he didn't want to bet on your Joker."

Alizabeth opened and closed her mouth several times, seeking the words that would most accurately express her indignation.

"I think," Ionnan put in, "she should be more concerned with how her Joker is doing right now."

...

"That. Was. Awesome!" Hannah cried, jumping up and down. "Your Carracosta's so cool! Those moves! The form! I just..." Hannah cleared her throat and thrust her hand out. "Good match. Thanks."

Corey shook her hand vigorously. "Good match," he agreed. "Lucario was fantastic. Very strong."

"Thanks," Hannah replied, grinning toothily.

"I just...I have a question."

"Sure, what's up?"

"Shouldn't you put him back in his ball?"

Hannah's smile turned into a blank stare. She whirled around and saw Lucario, barely able to climb the steps onto the ring. "Oh crap!" she said, pulling a pokeball from her pocket. "Luco, come on back!" Lucario vanished- gratefully- into its ball. "Man, Luco, I'm sorry. I forgot. Spaced out again."

"Yeah. You were doing that during the match, too. What's up with that?"

"Oh. Yeah, sorry. That wasn't...I didn't mean to insult you or anything. I do that a lot."

"But Luco still fought, without you telling him to."

"Yeah. He got used to me not paying attention all the time. Everyone on the team did."

"Huh. So," Corey asked, "what were you looking at? If not the match, I mean."

Hannah turned and pointed. "That," she said, indicating the ring diagonally across the stadium.

End Chapter Thirteen

_A/N: Back, after a really long hiatus! My old computer's video card finally died completely, and it took the old screen down with it. I finally got access to the proper equipment to strip the old hard drive of all pertinent data, so here it is! Chapter 13! The next one should be out by Thanksgiving- exam season, and all that. Just wanted to finish this to let you all know I still love ya._


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